


Going down for the second time

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: Coming up for air [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, M/M Sex, Milady is not evil in this, Multi, PIV Sex, Polyamory, Rochefort is totally evil, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Richelieu is dead</i>
</p><p>And now de Bourbon Corporation needs a good, steady, stable hand at the tiller.</p><p>Unfortunately, they got Guy Rochefort instead. And he has an agenda guaranteed to fuck things up for everyone dear to Athos's heart, as well as Athos himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've realised that this is a story about what would have happened if Athos had just talked to Milady and they'd sorted things out without all that nasty hanging business, so Milady isn't burning for revenge, and he's not an irredeemable drunk.
> 
> On the other hand, Athos is a grumpy introvert with issues, and Milady is wicked smart, so shit still goes down around them and with them, especially when d'Artagnan is added to the mix :)

_Richelieu is dead_

Twenty minutes after receiving the text, Athos called his team to his office to tell them what Treville had told him when Athos had called. He didn’t bother asking Anne to come down, because the day he got the jump on his ex-wife when it came to news affecting the de Bourbons would be the day she’d be taken away in a hearse. Nothing got past her.

Five minutes later, his people filed in and grabbed chairs. “Armand du Plessis died this morning,” Athos said simply. He wasn’t going to give them the salacious details, that du Plessis had died during a bout of early morning sex with his much younger mistress, who had to be taken away in an ambulance in hysterics.

“Wow,” Aramis said. “I thought he would live forever. He’s been with Monsieur since the beginning.”

“Since before then,” Athos said. “He worked for Monsieur’s father as did Treville. So whatever you thought of the man, please be sensitive to the fact both the de Bourbons will be genuinely grieving, and so will Treville.” Treville and du Plessis had had a love-hate relationship going back nearly twenty years. Some people might call that a marriage. “I don’t need to tell you the press will be sniffing around, so be composed and professional at all times.”

“Any word on who’s to replace him?” Porthos asked.

“Not yet. There’ll be an interim executive director, probably, and the board will appoint someone. Not our concern, of course. However, there will be a funeral to organise and security will have to be tight, considering who will attend. Treville will have more details later. My concern is Monsieur may be more...erratic than usual, so we need to watch for that.”

“Hope the new man ditches GardesRoux,” d’Artagnan muttered, a sentiment with which Athos sincerely agreed.

“It’s too early to think about that. Anyway, that’s all for this morning. D’Artagnan, you and Milady have Madame’s medical appointment this afternoon. Aramis, Porthos, it’s possible Monsieur may decide to go to HQ to meet with the board later. I have no news of that now, but be ready. Thank you.”

They left, d’Artagnan giving Athos a lovely smile just for him, which Athos appreciated. He didn’t know how he felt about du Plessis’s death. He hadn’t liked the man at all, though under his guardianship, De Bourbon Corporation had flourished. Athos’s main issue with him had been over his security team, GardesRoux, who could be downright obstructive when it came to organising the thankfully rare joint public appearances between du Plessis and Monsieur. Treville had been at Richelieu for years to let Treville’s people cover his security too, but he wanted total control over everything, including who guarded him.

On the other hand, he had been a fixture in Athos’s life for his entire tenure under Treville, and Treville was possibly du Plessis’s oldest friend, for some values of ‘friend’. The boss had sounded pretty miserable on the phone.

Still, it didn’t affect Athos personally, and professionally, the main issue was the funeral. He had other work to do this morning, and so he got on with it.

**********************

“Tired, huh?” D’Artagnan helped Athos remove his tie.

“Fucking knackered, actually.” Athos struggled with his jacket, giving up when d’Artagnan took over. “Thanks, love.”

“You’re welcome.” D’Artagnan kissed Athos on the cheek and hung up his jacket. A knock on the door, and he went to open it. “It’s Anne,” he called, which Athos already guessed, since she said she’d be over as soon as Madame was settled.

“Hello, boys. Athos, sit down before you fall down.” She held up a bottle of whisky. “I’ll pour.”

“Use a heavy hand,” Athos said. “None for the boy.”

“Oy.”

“Flying lesson at oh fart o’clock, remember?”

“I know.” D’Artagnan took off his own tie and jacket and hung them up. “The funeral was sadder than I expected.”

Anne returned, handing Athos a glass of whisky, and d’Artagnan a glass of orange juice. “People loved him, surprisingly.” She sat on the sofa next to Athos on his left, d’Artagnan on his right. “Everyone has someone, don’t they?”

“I guess. Treville looked terrible.”

Athos grunted in agreement. Wearing a suit so sharp you could cut yourself on it, Treville’s rigid grief was a stark contrast to Louis’s tears and occasional sobs. Constance, on Madame’s other side, could only watch as Athos had, from the side of the pews. They both knew Treville needed a hug, and Athos hoped Constance was giving him one right now. Treville had had to endure the ceremony at the graveyard too, under incongruously bright, warm spring sunshine. At least the team had been able to stand under trees, in the service of security with discretion. He’d taken them out for a meal afterwards, which was nice, but it had been clear his heart wasn’t in it. None of them stayed too long. Anne had gone back to the residence with Madame and Monsieur. Athos hoped someone had fed her.

“You did get supper?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.” She put her hand on his thigh, and Athos covered her hand with his own. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. I just don’t like funerals.”

D’Artagnan cuddled closer on his other side, putting his head on Athos’s shoulder. “Bad memories,” he murmured.

“For all of us.” It wasn’t just Thomas’s miserable requiem mass. Anyone in the military, as they all had been, had attended funerals for comrades lost in war or by accident.

Anne shifted. “Keeping Adele away was disgusting.” She sat forward to look at Athos. “Even if she didn’t love him—and who knows the truth there—she had been with him over four years. The family were horrible to her.”

“Agreed. It wasn’t like he’d been married and had a mistress on the side. She was his girlfriend.”

“Wrong end of town, and too young,” d’Artagnan said. “Didn’t present the right ‘image’.”

“Bollocks,” Athos said. Anne gave him a wry smile for that. She’d had to face his parents’ disapproval for being the ‘wrong’ sort for him, and they had taken pains to point out she’d proven them right. They had no idea what she was really like, not even now. “I hope someone’s looking after her.”

“Me too,” Anne said.

“I hope he left her a huge pot of money at the very least.”

“He did. The family are challenging it, I hear. As if _they_ need the money.”

Athos took a sip of the whisky. Anne had exquisite taste in the stuff, and always brought the best. He put his head back. “So tired.”

Anne ran her nails through his hair. “Long day.” D’Artagnan combed his fingers through Athos’s hair on the other side. The combination was lovely. “I also heard that the board have appointed someone, though it’s not public for a couple of days. Guy Rochefort.”

Athos lifted his head. “I know that name...he used to work for the corporation.”

“Yep, then he went off to work for Españatech five years ago. He’s deputy CEO there. Madame knows him from way back—he went to school with her brother.”

“Oh yes. He’s a bit of a weasel, if I recall correctly.”

“Then he’ll slot right in to du Plessis’s shoes,” d’Artagnan said.

“No, that’s unfair,” Anne said. “Richelieu was a fox, not a weasel. He had lines he wouldn’t cross.” Athos looked at her in surprise, and she smirked. “Well, very faint, wobbly lines drawn in chalk.”

“That’s what I thought. Oh well, so long as Rochefort does the right thing by the company, I don’t care.” Athos put his head back again. He hated all this politicking in business.

D’Artagnan sipped his orange juice. “So long as he keeps his damn guards out of our faces, I don’t care either.” He finished his drink and got to his feet. “I should go to bed.”

Anne stood. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Athos reached for her hand. “No, stay.”

She froze and looked at d’Artagnan. “What about Charles?”

“He can stay too. He lives here, remember?”

D’Artagnan took her other hand. “Please, stay. I’m cool.”

Athos looked up at her. “It’s okay, love. Watch, sleep, participate, whatever you’re comfortable with. I just want you both here tonight.”

“No argument from me. Spare toothbrush?”

“Always.”

She smiled. “Dibs on the bathroom.”

D’Artagnan bowed. “Ladies first.”

When she had gone into the bathroom and shut the door, d’Artagnan looked down. “What do you want apart from us being here?”

“Whatever you like, Charles. We can make love, you can make love, or we can all just sleep together.”

“This is a big change for you.”

“Not really. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Sweden. Just hasn’t been an occasion to move forward.”

“Are you _sure_ , Athos? Because it’ll kill her if you reject her again, and I won’t be happy either.”

Athos held out his hand and let d’Artagnan pull him to his feet. “I love you both. I need you both. I want you both. What do you want?”

“Everything. I’m greedy.”

Athos grinned. “Me too. So long as we don’t stay up too late.”

“It’s only eight now.”

“Then we have lots of time. And she needs it too,” he whispered. Anne had known Treville as long as Athos had. Both of them had found the day a trial.

Anne came out of the bathroom, and d’Artagnan went in. Athos took her in his arms. “Okay? Don’t stay if you’re worried.”

“Athos, darling, this was my idea months ago. What changed your mind?”

“Nothing. I just needed time to work out how I felt. There’s too much misery in the world. Why shouldn’t we seize love and happiness with both fists?”

She rubbed her hand behind his neck, and then looked behind his ear. “What _are_ you doing?”

“Looking for the power port. Because no way are you Athos de la Fère. You must be a sex bot imitating him.”

“Cheeky cow.”

“Seriously, what have you done with him?”

He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. “Not telling, but I give you permission to look for the power port most thoroughly in bed.”

She grinned. “It’s Charles, isn’t it? He’s corrupted you.”

“Maybe he fixed me. Maybe I fixed myself. Maybe coffins turn me on.”

“Okay, now you’re just weird.”

He laughed. She held his face in her hands and kissed him. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Athos led her into the bedroom, hung up her holster, and lay on the bed with her, kissing tenderly. It had been so long since they had done this, but it felt as if they had never stopped. “Undress me,” she said, still holding his face close.

He unzipped her dress, unhooked her bra, and bared one shoulder to kiss it, lick her skin.

“Starting without me?” D’Artagnan sat on the bed. “Want a hand with that, Athos?”

“Please,” he said, still looking at Anne.

She lifted herself long enough to allow d’Artagnan to bare her to the waist, then rolled on her back so Athos could kiss her throat, her full breasts. D’Artagnan slid her dress down her hips, then rolled her knickers and tights down as well, putting them on the chair and hanging up the dress. Then he removed his own clothes, Anne watching him while Athos kept on worshipping her perfect tits.

“Like what you see, darling?” He slid his hand between her thighs, using the side of it to rub between her cleft. She lifted one knee to give him better access.

“He’s very pretty, love. But then so are you. Charles, Athos is still not naked.”

“Can’t have that.” D’Artagnan went behind Athos and kissed his neck, before undoing his belt and unzipping him. He pulled Athos’s trousers and briefs off in one movement, then helped him out of them before removing his shoes and socks. He put his hands around Athos’s hips and held his cock, giving it a couple of encouraging strokes.

Athos sat up and undid his shirt, still watching Anne. “Charles, the lady needs attention.”

D’Artagnan went to the other side of her and kissed her as Athos watched, his shirt open and his erection proud. Watching d’Artagnan kiss, rather than being kissed by him, knowing what his lips would feel like on Athos’s own skin, seeing Anne react to his touch as she would to Athos’s own, sent strange feelings through him. He waited, letting his brain sort it out. It wasn’t jealousy, but it wasn’t just lust either. It was like...pride, almost. Like he had made something beautiful that he alone could understand.

D’Artagnan put his hand between Anne’s thighs and she moaned against his lips. A ripple of need shot through Athos, a need to taste and to touch. He bent and took one of her nipples between his teeth, testing it with his tongue. She pulled his hair. “More.”

He bit her nipple carefully while using his hand to guide d’Artagnan’s own to where she needed it. She arched up, throwing a leg over d’Artagnan’s shoulder. Athos covered her breast with his hand and moved higher so he could suck and nibble at her collarbone. “Which one of us do you want, love?” he breathed against her neck.

“Both. You then him. Please, Athos.”

He twisted to look at d’Artagnan. “Okay?”

D’Artagnan smiled, his eyes gone hazy with desire. “I’m good with anything you want.”

So he shifted, spreading her thighs, putting his mouth on her, drowning in the long-missed scent of her body, the lush taste of her. He climbed onto the bed, lifting her knees, but stopping to kiss d’Artagnan with her taste on his mouth. D’Artagnan plunged deep with his tongue, seeking both of them, his hands on Athos and Anne both, his cock, her cunt, stimulating Athos until he couldn’t bear it any more. He readied his cock and entered her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deep inside her. They both cried out. It had been so long, too long, and the heat of her was incredible.

D’Artagnan climbed behind her, her head in his lap, his hands on her breasts, his eyes on where Athos was joined to her, watching open-mouthed, breathing hard, as Anne arched and moaned under Athos’s thrusts. He wanted to pin her, keep her down, keep her there with him, with d’Artagnan, and never let them go because he needed them so much, his two beauties, his two most precious loves.

He came, gasping her name, reaching for her hands. She took them and he held them tight as the last shudders of his orgasm shook him. He opened his eyes and found d’Artagnan smiling at him, and Anne gazing up at him. He bent over her to kiss her. “Welcome home,” she whispered.

“Never let me leave again. I want you to ride him. Ride my boy.”

“Oh yes.”

Changing positions involved a lot of groping and kissing and nibbling, so by the time d’Artagnan was on the bed, ready for her, his cock was straining and his pupils were blown dark with need. Athos held his cock for Anne to mount. She turned to him. “Bet you never thought you’d be doing this for me.”

He kissed her, long and slow, as she sank down on d’Artagnan’s cock, tasted her sigh of pleasure. “Why did I wait, I ask myself.”

“It doesn’t matter. Now watch me ride your lover, Athos. I’m going to make him scream my name, wet from you.” She rolled her hips, and d’Artagnan exhaled. Athos sat beside him, fingering her and stroking his slick, sweaty skin, watching her, watching him watching her with his big eyes, watching hers, beautiful sea green in alabaster skin, low-lidded from sex and desire.

_Pride. Love. Desire. Need. Peace._

_Mine._

She threw her head back and came, quivering on his fingers. D’Artagnan shuddered and gasped out Anne’s name, then, “Athos.” His fingers still buried in her cunt, Athos kissed her, then d’Artagnan, who grabbed his head and held him tight against him for a few seconds, releasing him, breaths still heaving, his body still quivering from the aftershocks.

Athos wrapped his arms around Anne. “You’re both so beautiful,” he said. “And I love you both so very much.”

She leaned her head on his shoulders briefly, then nudged him away so she could lie over d’Artagnan. “Thank you, darling. Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome,” d’Artagnan said, grinning at her, then at Athos.

“Now I need a shower,” she said. “Athos, clean up your boy, then you can wash my back.”

“Yes, madame.”

**********************

For Athos, spring passed in a haze of joyful sex and affection, when he wasn’t doing his job. The job was only slightly complicated by the birth of the de Bourbon baby, because for now Anton Louis either stayed with his nanny, Agathe, or went with his mother to see the paediatrician. He was a sunny little baby, beloved by the team and his parents, the circumstances of his birth now a thankfully fading memory.

Guy Rochefort’s appointment as the executive director of De Bourbon Corporation was confirmed, and he took up his post in June. Treville had a good long moan to Athos about the man pinching Treville’s secretary out from under his nose, so Treville had the hassle of recruiting a replacement. It wasn’t the only moan Athos had to listen to about Rochefort. He’d managed to insult or irritate a lot of people in his determination to shake things up, and both Anne and Constance were less than impressed with his medieval thoughts on women.

“He refuses to believe I’m the least bit competent at keeping Madame secure,” Anne fumed to him and d’Artagnan one evening. “And he refers to Constance as a servant. I thought she’d slap him.”

“What does Madame say?”

“You think he says this stuff around her? We haven’t told her because we can handle it. But he’s a pig. At least du Plessis had manners.”

“Yes, he’d stick his pinkie out as he loaded your dead body into the Seine.”

She grinned. “There was that.”

“Why are we talking about this dickhead when we could be making love?” d’Artagnan complained.

“Seems the boy is eager,” Anne said, eyebrow raised.

Athos helped her to her feet. “Not the only one, darling.”

A week later, Athos had his own reason to bitch to his lovers and anyone else who would listen, when Rochefort himself demanded he come to Treville’s office to meet the two of them.

He was kept waiting, which he never cared for. Treville’s new secretary kept her head down and refused to chat, so Athos sat straight-backed and seethed internally for fifteen minutes, until Treville opened his door and invited him in. “Ah, de la Fère, we meet at last.”

“Monsieur Rochefort,” Athos replied, tempted to leave off the honorific out of spite. He faced a short man with dirty blonde hair, a permanent sneer, intense, rather creepy blue eyes and a high whining voice that got on his nerves immediately.

“Please take a seat, Athos. Monsieur Rochefort has, uh, some thoughts about the de Bourbon’s summer holiday at the chalet.”

Athos suppressed the “What the hell?” with difficulty. “And those thoughts are?”

“As I will be accompanying the family to Chamonix, I will naturally use the GardesRoux as my security. Since your egregious failure in the winter, I’m sure you won’t object to that.”

Athos’s back stiffened. “You mean where members of my team overcame two hijackers and brought Madame and her child home safely?”

“I mean where you and your team, while providing security, allowed two individuals with weapons onto a private aircraft so they could put the lives of Madame and her child in danger.”

“We’re not in the habit of searching members of the family before they ride in the family’s jet, m _onsieur_ ,” Treville said. “Louis doesn’t like it.”

“It’s up to you to institute the correct safety measures over the whims of your client, Treville. I’ve already arranged this with Louis. Charles d’Artagnan and Anne de la Chapelle, being pilots and useful in that regard, will accompany the family, but no other employees from your department. Is that understood?”

“Monsieur, we have worked with the family and their guests for many years, and we know how they like things—”

“Familiarity with a routine does not counteract your failures, de la Fère. This is not up for discussion.”

“Fine. I’ll return to my own office, shall I?” Athos slammed out of the room before he hit something. Or someone.

His phone rang as he drove back to the residence. “Jean? You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Athos. He sprang that on me this morning, and demanded you came down in person.”

“So he could humiliate us both.”

“Yes.”

Athos ground out from between gritted teeth, “And you just let him.”

“He’s a family friend. Louis’s been leaning on him because he’s taken Armand’s death so hard. Rochefort persuaded him and got his agreement before I heard a thing about it.”

“It’ll be a shambles.”

“Let’s hope.”

“Yes, but Madame and the baby will have to endure it and after the hijacking, that’s not fair.”

“I know. At least d’Artagnan and Milady will be there to act as a buffer.”

“I’m going to tell them not to rescue those bloody GardesRoux if they muck up. Let Louis see exactly what our experience and training is worth.”

“I have no problem with that, Athos, although I can’t put it in writing, and I’ll deny we had this conversation.”

“Of course. Why is he doing this, though? What does he care what security the family use?”

“I don’t know. But you all need to watch your step. He’s looking for something. Let’s not hand it to him.”

Athos was still furious when he got back to the residence. Aramis walked past him and stopped, doing a double take. “What’s happened?”

“Call Porthos. My office, ASAP. Where’s d’Artagnan?”

“The gym, I think. With Anne.”

“Ask them to come along too, please.” He walked off, needing to calm down before he spoke to his people.

**********************

“You’re shitting me.”

“I think Porthos speaks for all of us,” Aramis said, glancing at his boyfriend.

D’Artagnan, still in his gym gear, clenched his fists on his thighs. “Is he really going to do this to Madame and Anton? Anne, what do you think?”

She put her hand on his arm. “I think we don’t shoot the messenger, Charles. I also think Rochefort is a dangerous weasel and I’m worried for Treville.”

Athos raised his head and looked at her. “So am I. What’s he up to?”

D’Artagnan frowned. “Why is he levering us out? Why does he care?”

“That’s the million euro question, isn’t it?” D’Artagnan’s lover looked at him, his eyes shuttered as they got when he was upset or thinking hard. “You and Anne are not to clean up GardesRoux’s messes. You stick to working with Madame, and piloting. That’s it.”

“What if Madame asks us to help?”

“That’s different. If you’re asked by either Madame or Monsieur to do something, you do it. But on your own initiative, outside those areas of responsibility? No.”

“And we’ll pray for them to screw up in less than lethal ways,” Aramis said, smiling and twirling his moustache.

“I don’t like it.” Porthos’s tone was heavy with menace. Not directed at any of them, d’Artagnan knew by now, but it promised a smacking for someone.

“You think I do?” Athos’s nostrils flared as he looked at his friend. “There’s nothing we can do. So deal. Anne, d’Artagnan, continue to prepare as normal. The rest of us will have two weeks off, by the sound of it. Enjoy. That’s all, thank you.”

D’Artagnan lingered after the others left. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not. Leave me alone now, Charles. I need to hit something.”

“Come spar with me and Anne.”

Athos looked up at him. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“We won’t. Come on.”

As they were changing, Anne told d’Artagnan she wouldn’t come over that night. “I don’t want to drag this into our time together,” she said to d’Artagnan. “Don’t talk to him about it, don’t let him wallow in it. Okay, darling?”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Of course.”

He still had his own cabin, but he spent very little time there these days. He stored clothes there that were out of season, some books and old photos, but he ate and slept and loved in Athos’s cabin. Anne was more independent but even so, some of her stuff had inevitably migrated to Athos’s place too. She didn’t spend every night with them, but as many as she thought wise. D’Artagnan got the slight impression that she thought she could be seen as a threat to his relationship with Athos, but he felt the opposite was true. Athos had never been happier and more relaxed since he’d opened his bed as well as his heart to both of them, and for d’Artagnan, he was sated and satisfied. Getting closer to Anne as well as Athos had enriched his life.

So he wasn’t looking forward to that evening. After he and Anne took Madame and the baby to visit a family friend that afternoon, he returned to the cabin where Athos was making a salad. “I fancy a swim. How about you?”

Athos wiped his hands. “Yes.”

They changed into their bathers, and dived into the pool. Athos let d’Artagnan give him a couple of quick kisses, though he wasn’t keen on public displays of affection even though the pool was restricted to employees, and the de Bourbons never came down here. “Treville wants us to give no cause for complaint,” Athos said as he floated away from d’Artagnan.

“Kissing one’s lover is cause for complaint now?”

“If saving the life of a mother and child is, anything can be.”

D’Artagnan didn’t reply. Rochefort’s quoted remarks about the hijacking had infuriated him and if he started to comment, he’d never stop.

He stayed in the pool, tossing a ball back and forth with Athos, floating on his back, and cooling down as well as cooling off, until he was bored, and climbed out. Athos followed, and once the cabin door had shut, he pounced on d’Artagnan, pushing against the living room wall, pulling his bathers down, and taking d’Artagnan’s cock in his mouth. d’Artagnan held onto the wall and let Athos ravish him, sucking him off with skill and speed. His orgasm left him jelly-legged and wordless, but before he could drag Athos up to kiss him, the man disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door. A few seconds later, d’Artagnan heard the shower running.

Throwing his hands up in frustrated confusion, he picked up his discarded swimsuit and tossed it into the laundry sink, then cut some bread and poured some wine for himself, eating in the kitchen. A few minutes later Athos returned, dressed in shorts and an open necked shirt.

“I was going to offer to return the favour but you didn’t hang around long enough.”

Athos ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just...needed. I don’t need the favour returned.”

D’Artagnan hooked a finger into the waistband of Athos’s shorts and pulled him over. “What if I want to?”

“Not now, Charles. I’m okay.”

D’Artagnan knew better than to argue. He had his own shower, and then they ate supper together, Athos not noticeably out of sorts. But the unreciprocated blowjob was familiar behaviour to d’Artagnan from the early days of their love life. Offering pleasure while denying himself was how Athos dealt with emotional turmoil. He found a kind of peace in the act of giving someone else an orgasm.

He also found peace by being cuddled and held, so d’Artagnan did that in bed, offering solace and support without words. Athos would talk when he was ready. That wasn’t going to be tonight. What more could he say anyway? Rochefort’s actions were petty and ill-judged, but he had all the power in this situation, until Monsieur and Madame realised what he’d done.

A week later he and Anne flew the de Bourbons, Rochefort, Constance, Agathe, and Rochefort’s personal bodyguard, Pierre Villefort, up to Chamonix. Madame and Constance hadn’t been in the new Learjet before, and had only flown the once, returning from Sweden to Paris after the hijacking. D’Artagnan felt a little reassurance might be good, so after they reached cruising altitude, he left the co-pilot seat and went back to the cabin. “How are you doing?” he asked Constance.

“I’m okay.” She smiled a little tremulously.

Madame glanced at her in sympathy. “At least you don’t have to deliver a baby this time.”

“And I’m not planning to shoot myself in the leg, so you can relax,” d’Artagnan joked.

“D’Artagnan, is there a reason you’ve abandoned your post?” Rochefort drawled. “You should be piloting the plane with Mademoiselle de la Chapelle.”

“I’m just making conversation, _monsieur_ ,” d’Artagnan said politely.

“Return to the cockpit. We don’t need your tepid attempts at entertainment.”

Constance pursed her lips but said nothing. Madame smiled. “Perhaps you should, Charles. I know I feel safe with the two of you flying the plane.”

“Of course, Madame.”

D’Artagnan returned and sat down. He scowled at the instruments. “Something wrong?” Anne asked.

“Stepped in some weasel droppings.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Ah.”

The same thing happened over and over again at the chalet. When he wasn’t flying, or eating a meal, Rochefort expected him to either stay in his room, or go walking on his own. He wasn’t given any peace to socialise even with Constance, and if the man caught him interacting with any of the visitors Monsieur had invited for a few days’ visit, outside transporting them or carrying their bags, d’Artagnan was told to fuck off in almost as many words.

He was also expected to search visitors coming or going, which went down as well as he could have predicted. When one of the directors of the board complained to Monsieur about it, Rochefort tore a strip off d’Artagnan in front of the director and Monsieur himself, lambasting him for being rude and treating a valuable business partner like a criminal. Rochefort ended up sending him to his room like a naughty child.

D’Artagnan lay on his bed, trying to control his anger. He’d come _this_ close to punching the man. But he’d dealt with officers like this in the air force, and he was expected to handle worse, so he needed to reign it in. Rochefort was a petty little man with delusions of grandeur. And he had terrible taste in fashion.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on his door. “It’s not locked.”

It was Anne. She came in and leaned against the wall. “I just heard. Have you told Athos?”

“No, he’s got enough on his plate. I’m not going to run to him over every little insult.”

“Has it occurred to you that this isn’t just Rochefort being his usual charming self, Charles? He’s trying to force you to quit.”

D’Artagnan sat up. “Why? He could just terminate my contract.”

“No, he couldn’t. Monsieur wouldn’t let him. You saved his wife and child. It would take a hell of a lot for Monsieur to be so angry with you that he could overlook that. So Rochefort is working on you instead.”

“Why? I’m a nobody.”

“You belong to Treville. It’s Treville he’s after.”

“And again I ask, why?”

She crossed over to the bed and sat on it. “I don’t know, darling. But I’m worried. I’m worried about him using our relationships with each other and with the family against us.”

“What does Madame say? She saw what he was like on the jet.”

“She says he’s afraid of flying. It makes him irritable.”

“It makes him rude and thoughtless. Oh wait, he’s like that all the time.”

“Not around Madame or Monsieur. So we have to be very careful, Charles.”

“He’s harassing me for doing my damn job, Anne. He literally told me off for doing exactly what he ordered me to do.”

“I know.”

“I mean, he could have had his men do it, but no, it had to be me. He set me up.”

“Yes, he did. It’s not an accident.”

D’Artagnan ran his hands through his hair, a habit he’d picked up from Athos. “What do I do?”

She moved closer and put an arm around his shoulder. “Keep your temper at all costs. Smile, obey, pretend you’re stupid and you don’t know what’s going on. Think of it as hazing. It’s no fun, I know. But there’s something bigger going on here, so hold on.” She kissed his cheek. “I know, Athos knows, what you’re really like. He won’t change our minds. I have to go back to Madame, but would you like me to spend the night here?”

“Would you?”

“Of course. Athos specifically told me to take care of you, and yes, he meant in that way too,” she added with a smile.

“Funny, he said the same thing to me about you.”

“Bloody man,” she said affectionately. “Can you bear it, Charles? He’s a bully but you’ve dealt with them before.”

“Yeah, I have. I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

She kissed him again. “Any time. I’ll see you tonight.”

D’Artagnan sighed when she left. Rochefort might be obvious in what he was attempting, but that didn’t make it more palatable. At least in a week he’d be back with Athos, and things would be easier.

**********************

On the return from Geneva, Anne and d’Artagnan did a second run back from Le Bourget with the luggage, having delivered the passengers first so Rochefort could get back to whatever it was he did at Headquarters, probably involving small helpless animals. Athos was waiting for them, and helped take the luggage up to the residence, and Rochefort’s five suitcases down the garage where his driver and the inevitable Villefort waited for them.

Athos hadn’t said a word to d’Artagnan or Anne since they arrived, his expression grim the whole time. In the garage, d’Artagnan challenged him over it. “Something the matter, Athos?”

“Yes, there damn well is and you know exactly what it is!” Villefort turned with a smirk to listen, but Athos disregarded him. “You weren’t gone a week when you started fucking her, were you? And you,” he said, pointing at Anne, “can’t bear me to have the smallest thing of my own without you spoiling it. We agreed to sleep together, not for you to go picking him off when I wasn’t around.”

“For heaven’s sake, Athos,” Anne said, her green eyes cold. “Grow up. It was just sex.”

“Yes, like it was with Thomas. At least you didn’t push this one under a car. Although I wish you had.”

“Hey! Don’t pick on her, you shithead. I made the choice. Frankly, it was better without you and all your fucking emotional baggage.” D’Artagnan’s chest heaved with stress as he glared at Athos.

“Good, because that’s how it’s going to be. I’ve had enough of sluts, male or female. If you can’t be faithful, I have no interest in you. Either of you,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “Carry your own fucking luggage.” He dumped the two bags he was holding and stormed off.

Villefort was still watching. D’Artagnan gave him a queasy look. “Sorry about that. He gets emotional.”

“Oh please, Charles,” Anne said. “We all know Athos is a pig to his partners. I was a bloody fool to give him a second chance.”

“I’m sorry, Anne. He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“No, he shouldn’t have. Never mind.” She came up and kissed him on the lips, bold as brass. “We’re good, aren’t we?”

“Hell yeah. Who needs a bully like him?”

He held her close, felt the tremors of distress running through her. _Oh God, Athos. What have we done?_


	2. Chapter 2

**[Five days earlier]**

“Your room, five minutes,” Anne murmured as she bent over to pick up a magazine from the table on the back deck where d’Artagnan was having a cup of coffee. He gave her a small nod. Two of Rochefort’s security team watched them from the other side of the deck, but couldn't have heard her, he hoped.

She left with the magazine. D’Artagnan finished his coffee in a leisurely fashion, then stood and strolled back inside the chalet, going upstairs to his room. He opened the door on the first knock.

Anne said nothing, just handed d’Artagnan her phone with a text from Athos. _My office is bugged. Call me on VOIP. Do not use phone line._

“Holy shit,” d’Artagnan whispered. “What about here?”

She put her finger to her lips, then did a thorough visual check around the room and behind all the electronics. “We’re okay. My room’s clear too. I’m going to call him now.”

She put a call through Skype on his iPad. “Can you talk?” she asked as soon as Athos answered.

“Yeah, I’m not at the residence. Are you two okay?”

“Never mind us, what the hell is going on? A bug in your office?”

“Probably in our cabins too. I’ll look later. We have a problem. This morning I went to see Jean, and I bumped into Marguerite, his old secretary. I’ve seen her before and she’d always been friendly. This time, she wouldn’t look at me, and she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“So?” d’Artagnan asked, but Anne hushed him.

“Aramis,” she said.

“Yeah. Rochefort must know about Aramis, from her. That’s why he wanted _her_. I’ve warned Jean, and he agrees. We’re both going down over this if he uses it, Anne. We both covered it up.”

“But he can’t say anything about that without implicating Madame,” d’Artagnan said.

“Which means he’s going after her, at least eventually," Athos confirmed. D'Artagnan's stomach lurched. "He might not use it, but Marguerite knows enough stuff that Jean’s covered up or glossed over for everyone’s sake that Rochefort can take him down. If he’s bugged my office, he wants me too.”

“He’s trying to make me resign,” d’Artagnan said.

“I know. Anne told me.”

D'Artagnan turned to scowl at his lover. “I said not to—”

“Charles, this is bigger than you, I told you.”

“Yes it is, Charles. But he’s not going to succeed in removing you or Anne unless you give Louis a damn good reason to. Louis doesn’t have the same reason to keep me, so I’m expendable. So are Aramis and Porthos. Jean figures we’ll all be levered out, and Rochefort’s people moved in. Why, I have no idea, but the one thing we have to do is protect Madame and the baby.”

“Not Louis?”

“Louis is more susceptible to Rochefort and we might not be able to help him. But if we protect his wife and child, then we protect him by proxy.”

“So what do you want to do about it?” Anne asked.

Athos drew in a breath. “I’m afraid the three of us are going to have to break up.”

**********************

**[Present time]**

Athos stumbled to his cabin and barely made it to his bathroom before he threw up. He hung over the toilet bowl, sobbing and sick, hating himself for what he’d just said to the people he loved, hating Guy Rochefort for being the reason he’d had to say it.

“Are you all right?”

_Aramis._

Athos shook his head. Aramis waited until Athos stood, then helped him over to the sink to rinse out his mouth and wash his face. Athos flushed the toilet, but couldn’t look at Aramis’s face. His friend took him into his arms. “You had to,” Aramis whispered.

Athos nodded. It was true, but it didn’t help how he felt. Insulating Anne and d’Artagnan from the almost inevitable consequences of Rochefort’s strange campaign against Treville and his people was necessary and right, but Christ, it hurt.

“Now what?” Aramis kept his voice very quiet. All their cabins had been bugged, Athos had discovered, and telling Aramis and Porthos what was going down had involved insane amounts of subterfuge. All of them now had prepaid phones unattached to any credit card linked to the de Bourbons, and Athos had issued strict instructions to them all to delete messages from their work phones and emails. Who knew how far Rochefort’s spying had gone?

“We wait,” Athos whispered back. “I’m okay,” he said in a louder voice.

“You know where we are,” Aramis said.

“I don’t want to talk about this any more, Aramis. It’s over and done with.” He pushed away from Aramis, ignored his friend’s concerned expression, and walked out into the living room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Come for supper.”

“Not tonight.”

“You bastard!”

Athos really should have locked his door. “Yes, Constance?”

The red-haired virago walked over to him and slapped his face. “How could you treat Anne like that? Again!”

“She cheated on me again, Constance. It’s the one thing she knows I can’t forgive.”

“Cheated? You three have been so tight—”

“We had an arrangement, and rules. She violated them for some cheap thrills with d’Artagnan. So now she can have him all to herself.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this! You’re...you’re disgusting. And you, Aramis. You couldn’t have talked some sense in him?”

“I happen to agree with Athos, actually.”

She glared at them both. “You make me sick. As of this moment, we are no longer friends, Athos de la Fère. Never speak to me again.”

“As you wish,” he said. Even though the decision to keep Constance out of the plan had just been vindicated by her authentic reaction, Athos felt her words like knives to his heart. Could all this ever be repaired? And more than that, was it worth it?

She walked out. Silently, Aramis led Athos to the sofa with a hand on his arm, and made him sit. “Perhaps a cup of coffee?”

“I want a drink.”

“Not a good idea, Athos.”

He was right, damn him. But if Athos couldn’t drink when facing the wreck of his career _and_ his happiness, when could he?

**********************

A mere week later, the bomb dropped. Athos and Aramis were summoned to Monsieur’s office in the residence, where they found Monsieur, Rochefort, and Treville waiting for them. Treville’s expression was stony, while Rochefort’s full of sneering smugness. Monsieur’s colour was high, his eyes red as if he’d been crying. He did not invite them to sit.

“Athos, Aramis, I’ve brought you here so you can tell me what Rochefort has reported to me is false. Did you sleep with my wife, Aramis?”

Aramis shifted on his feet. “Monsieur....”

“Don’t lie to me, Aramis! Tell me the truth!”

“Once. Only the once. We were both drunk—”

“Enough!” Monsieur looked at him with such a wounded expression, Athos wanted to throttle Rochefort for making the man feel this horrible. “Athos, you covered this up? You and Jean?”

“We did it to protect you and Madame, Monsieur.”

“And you didn’t think sacking the guilty party would have done that better?” Rochefort demanded.

“Madame was adamant we did not,” Treville said.

“I offered to resign,” Aramis said. “She wouldn’t have it.”

“Well, I’ll have it,” Monsieur said. “Get out, and get out of my home. Be off the property in twenty-four hours and don’t let me see you again.”

“Monsieur,” Aramis said. He turned on his heel and left the room.

Athos remained ramrod straight. “And me?”

“Ah, yes, the noble Athos de la Fère,” Rochefort sneered. “So worried about Madame’s reputation. And yet you held Monsieur’s reputation so lightly that you put him at risk of criminal prosecution for hiding a crime!”

Athos was confused. “I don’t—”

Rochefort slapped the desk. “D’Artagnan! You committed a serious assault on the man, then you and Treville conspired to cover it up. What would have happened if d’Artagnan had called the police, hmmm? You bribed him into silence, took him as a lover, and now I hear he’s finally tired of you. So he could very well still go to the police and have you arrested. So Treville has put Louis de Bourbon in the position of being accessory to concealing a crime, without having the courtesy of telling him what was going on.”

“Rochefort—“

“That’s _Monsieur_ Rochefort, you piece of shit. And there’s the hijacking. There are suggestions that you were behind that all along.”

“I was _not_!”

“No? Then why was money transferred from the account used by the hijackers to one in your father’s name?”

Athos stared in bewilderment. “It wasn’t.” Beside Rochefort, Treville had gone ashen-faced.

“I think you’ll find it was.” Rochefort’s sneer became positively shark-like. “I have gathered enough evidence to pass to the police. It’s only Monsieur de Bourbon who’s stayed my hand.”

Monsieur looked at Athos with raw hurt in his expression. “I didn’t want...your parents have suffered so much, Athos. But this is how you repay me? All these years, all I did for them and Thomas, and this, now?”

“Monsieur, I know nothing about this.”

“Most unlikely,” Rochefort said. “However, Monsieur de Bourbon has agreed not to proceed with this, in exchange for you and Treville leaving his service immediately, without a termination payment or references, and that you sign a form saying you have no claim on the corporation and that your separation is entirely voluntary.”

Athos put as much contempt as he was capable of into his tone. “I’m supposed to allow you to blackmail two of Monsieur’s longest-standing employees out of their jobs based on fabricated evidence.”

“If you prefer, de la Fère, we can turn it all over to the police and let them decide what is or is not fabricated. Of course, that will drag in your father, your mother too.”

Athos curled his lip in disgust. “You’ve got everything covered, haven’t you, Rochefort? Get rid of us, move your GardesRoux in? What next? Will you find Monsieur a new wife now you’ve destroyed his marriage?”

Monsieur slammed his fist on the desk. “Enough! Get out, Athos. You and Treville are sacked. I don’t care what you bloody sign. Get off my property immediately and if I see you around again, I will have you arrested. Leave now, both of you. You revolt me.”

Athos turned and walked out. Treville followed. As they exited the office, two of Rochefort’s people came up behind them. One of them demanded, “Wait. Your security passes and keys.”

“What about my cabin?”

“It will be packed up and sent to an address you nominate. Or it will be dumped. You too, Treville.”

Athos emptied his pockets and threw the passes and keys and his work phone on the ground. Treville handed his to the man. “Let’s go, Athos,” he said.

Downstairs, Treville used his private phone to rang for a taxi to take them both to his house near HQ. Athos checked his pre-paid mobile. A text from Aramis. _Porthos just quit in sympathy_

_Not surprised_

Then Athos sent a message to d’Artagnan and Anne. _I’m out, T’s out. Aramis + Porthos too. Gone to T’s house_

Then he put the phone away. “Porthos quit,” he murmured.

“Of course he did.”

“Are you sure your place is clean?”

“I might be only an ex-head of security now, Athos, but I know my job, whatever that fool thinks.”

“What will you tell Constance?”

“The truth. Eventually. Right now, she needs to think the worst of you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Athos said, remembering the disappointment and anger she'd showed the week before. “It’s a relief, in a way. But it also sucks.”

“Yes, it does.”

At least they had anticipated this. Treville and Athos had both been backing up, documenting and moving stuff from their offices and in Athos’s case, his cabin, to Treville’s house, so the sudden eviction wasn’t as much of an inconvenience as Rochefort had no doubt hoped. It was still deeply unpleasant to look at the spare room Treville had generously offered to Athos rent-free, and know that neither d’Artagnan nor Anne would set foot there for weeks, possibly months.

“Right,” Treville said, coming up behind him and clapping him on the shoulder. “Enough moping, Athos. We have work to do.”

“Do you believe him about the money going into an account with Dad’s name on it?”

“Do I believe there is such an account? Very likely. Did your father have anything to do with it? Not a chance. But we need more information on that too. Rochefort is playing a long game here, but that kind of gamble exposes him.”

“I still have no idea what he hopes to achieve. He already runs the company for a fabulous salary. Short of becoming Louis himself, what can he hope to gain?”

“I don’t know. Forget the why. Let’s look at the how of what he’s doing now. Marguerite isn’t his source for the bank account, so where did that come from?”

“Why would she betray you like that, though? I can’t get my head around it.”

Treville shook his head. “Forget that too. He forced her? He tricked her? It doesn’t matter. All I know is that all my files are now in his hands. We have to work out what he can do with that other than to have us all sacked.”

**********************

D’Artagnan read Athos’s text, then deleted it. Anne did the same. “We have to tell her,” she murmured.

“Where?”

“In the car.”

“Constance will murder us when she finds out.”

“She’ll understand.”

D’Artagnan wasn’t so sure. The little act Athos had arranged had been hard enough to bear, but Constance turning up at d’Artagnan’s cabin, ranting about Athos’s cruelty and how poor Anne was suffering and god, Charles, how can you stand it?, had pretty much broken him, and the tears he’d shed on her shoulder had been real. Even knowing Athos was pretending, knowing the reason for it, the words he’d flung had hurt, the fears they’d played on real. Not even Anne could console him.

When he’d regained his composure, he’d still had to put up with Constance’s righteous anger on his and Anne’s behalf, the way she spat Athos’s name, and the faces she’d pulled when he was mentioned. D’Artagnan had wanted to shake her, to scream, “He’s one of your oldest friends! How can you believe this is real?” Unfortunately, Athos had laid the ground too well in the past, and believing the act was the easiest bit, for everyone.

It couldn't be coincidence that Rochefort had decided to spring his trap on Aramis, Athos and Treville while Madame was at the foundation’s offices. Constance was back at the residence. Now was a perfect time to speak to Madame on her own.

She finished her business at noon, and came out, smiling at them both. “Would you like to have lunch before we go back?”

“That would be lovely, Madame,” d’Artagnan said.

Anne came up beside her and whispered something in her ear. Madame’s expression changed. “Let’s make it _Le Petit Chou_.”

The café was too small and too ordinary to attract the kind of people who would know Madame on sight, and none of Rochefort’s wealthy friends would know of it. D’Artagnan found a place to park, and Anne led the way into the café. They placed their orders and waited until the food and drink arrived before Anne came to the real issue. Madame listened in silence as Anne explained, told her what Rochefort had exposed to Monsieur, about the bugs, the way he’d tried to force d’Artagnan out, and how he had succeeded at one stroke in removing four key employees all loyal to the de Bourbons.

“So Louis is waiting for me to return so he can present me with the evidence against me regarding Aramis?” she asked Anne.

“I don’t know for sure, Madame. He might regard it as a private matter and decide to stay quiet. But it’s likely he is.”

Madame put her hand around her throat. “Oh God. It was all my fault too. I practically ordered Aramis into bed with me. If I tell Louis that, do you think...?”

“Madame, I think that’s only likely to make it worse,” d’Artagnan said as gently as he could.

“So what can I do?” She wrung her hands. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“You can be humble and apologise, and hope he accepts that. He loves you very much,” Anne said. “But what you can’t do is mix up your problem, and our problem.”

“You mean, your break up with Athos?”

“No, that was all fake,” D’Artagnan said. “We staged that to make sure that if Athos and Treville were sacked, we would be able to stay and protect you.”

Her eyes went wide. “You did that for me? I don’t deserve such loyalty.”

“We beg to disagree, Madame,” he said, smiling. “We swore to protect you. Do you think we meant that lightly?”

She took his hand, and Anne’s. “You are the most wonderful people, and true friends. But what can we do about Athos and Jean? They can’t suffer because of my mistake.”

“That’s what I meant about ‘our problem’,” Anne said. “You have to keep out of it, keep Rochefort’s attention off you and Anton. Athos and the others are working to find out what he’s up to. You must remain protected and isolated from his scheme. We’ll bear what needs to be borne.”

“Constance! She doesn’t know that you pretended...that Athos pretended....”

“Because her reaction gave the pretence a veneer of authenticity. She’s many things, but she’s a very poor liar, not that she tries very often,” Anne said fondly. “I’d rather you didn’t tell her just yet. Don’t worry, she will be told.”

Madame shook her head. “I hate this. How dare Guy come into my family and rampage through our lives like this?”

“Forgive me for asking, but could this be personal? Some grudge against your brother?” d’Artagnan asked.

She frowned. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure Philippe has seen him in years.”

“Your brother has shares in Españatech, does he not?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he had any contact with Guy.”

“Españatech is a rival to de Bourbon Corp, though.”

“We have lots of rivals, Charles.” Her phone rang. She picked it up. “It’s Louis.” She hit the ‘decline’ button. “What do I say?”

“That you’ll be home soon,” d’Artagnan said.

Anne pulled out her private phone. “Before you do that, I want to speak to Athos. Do you mind, Madame?”

“No, please do.”

Anne went outside. Madame poked at her meal which she’d barely touched. “I suppose you don’t understand why I slept with Aramis.”

“Madame, you hardly need to explain yourself to me. These things happen.”

“They weren’t supposed to happen to _me_. I was raised to believe in fidelity at all costs, in sickness and health. But Louis...his condition...I feel so isolated by it sometimes. Even with Anne and Constance and all of you, and my work, I don’t have that connection...that intimacy. Louis and I are great friends. But we’re not great lovers.” She blushed. “I’m sorry, that’s too much information.”

“I would never tell a soul, Madame. But I was there when your son was born, so I feel you have a right to tell me what you wish.”

She laughed rather sadly. “Yes, nothing like having a baby in a plane to lose all your privacy. But do you understand, Charles? How you can be so desperate to be touched a certain way that you lose your commonsense? And with alcohol involved....”

“I understand completely. I feel for Monsieur’s position too, but I understand yours and sympathise. No one has the right to turn that into a weapon against you.”

“I had no idea Guy could be like this, but I’ve overlooked things, like the way he treated you, that should have been a warning. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We all make excuses for our friends.”

“Like you make them for me.”

D'Artagnan wished he could hug her. “Madame, Guy Rochefort is not worth one of your toenail clippings. There is no comparison at all.”

She smiled. “I thought Aramis had the way with words. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Thank you, Madame,” d’Artagnan said, grinning.

Anne returned. “There’s been another development. Rochefort is trying to pin the hijacking on Athos.”

“What the fuck? Excuse my language, Madame, but how the hell does he dare?” D’Artagnan half rose from the table in his anger. Anne frowned and signalled him to sit down. “Sorry.”

“I understand the reaction,” Anne said. “It’s pretty much what Athos said when Rochefort made the accusation. Someone apparently set up an account in Athos’s father’s name and shifted money from the hijackers’ account into it. Athos knows nothing about it, and nor would his father. The very idea is ludicrous if you know the man. Monsieur is keeping quiet about it to spare the scandal, but Rochefort claims he can go to the police at any time.”

“That’s ridiculous,” D’Artagnan snapped. “Madame, you can’t possibly believe—”

She held up a hand. “I don’t. Not for a nanosecond. I’ve known Athos for years, and he would cut his arm off before he would allow Constance, let alone me, to come to harm. Not to mention the two people flying the plane.”

“Unfortunately,” Anne said, “since Louisa and Francesco are both dead, we can’t interrogate them about this, and Rochefort had not revealed who owned the hijacker’s account or how he can possibly know what he says he knows.”

“Only the owner of the account would know who opened it,” d’Artagnan said.

“Precisely,” Anne said.

Madame slumped a little. “I better call Louis back. And then we walk into the hurricane. Are we ready for this?”

“We’re ready for anything,” D’Artagnan said.


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis and Porthos arrived mid-afternoon. “We stopped to pack,” Aramis said. “Rochefort’s men watched that we didn’t steal anything.”

Athos rolled his eyes. “Nothing too petty for him, I see.”

Fortunately Treville had a big house with nothing much in it, so the boxes and bags could be stored without too much trouble. “Don’t suppose I’ll be going back there,” Aramis said.

“Why not?” Athos asked.

“You and Treville haven’t done anything wrong. I on the other hand, did. However this shakes out, how is Louis going to overlook that?”

“He won’t,” Treville said. “You knew this was a risk, Aramis. Better start looking for another job.”

“Oh, and that’ll be easy,” Porthos said. “Seeing how his boss was also sacked.”

“Don’t worry about it for now. The important thing is to stop Rochefort doing more harm. If we can expose his plan to Louis, other things may flow from that,” Athos said.

“So how do we do that?”

“Work, my friends. Lots and lots of work.”

**********************

It was ten o’clock before Athos closed the laptop and put his head in his hands. Enquiries sent, enquiries read, searches made, searches sifted. They were concentrating for now on finding out exactly who Rochefort was, and who he had worked for who might have an interest in what he was doing now. Treville had been in the security business for such a long time, he had built up a wealth of contacts. The work involved writing to these people and putting the right enquiries to them, then making sense of the answers.

He had a text message from Anne. _Too late to skype?_

_No. Call me._

He picked up his iPad, and a few moments later, a Skype call came in from. “Where are you?” he asked.

“In town. I took Charles to dinner. He’s here.”

D’Artagnan’s face appeared. “Hey love. How are you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

“I bet. Anne wants to report. Love you.”

“Me too.”

Anne came back. “Athos, Rochefort is now trying to convince Louis that Anton could be Aramis’s kid.”

“Not possible.”

“I know. But he’s pulled up a list of her events where Aramis was on duty, and the dates match, and Louis is in such a state, he believes Rochefort. He had the worst argument with her—I had to step in to stop him getting physical with her. We had to call out Doctor Lemay—he gave Louis a sedative, which helped.”

“God.”

“I know. Madame is so distressed. I want to kill Rochefort.”

“Get in line, darling. Is she staying?”

“Only until she can rent an apartment for her and the baby. This is getting out of hand. Where are we with the investigation?”

“We’ve been advised to look at his financials, what shares he owns and so forth. Also his relationship with Philippe Navarre.”

“Charles suggests you look at whether it’s possible he could know who owned the hijackers’ account without being the owner himself.”

“No, he can’t do. Not can he know what accounts my father is supposed to own. He’s either lying or he has bank employees in his pocket.”

“Or he’s the one behind the hijacking.”

Athos went still. “That long ago?”

“We know they worked for someone. Why not him?”

“Okay, I’ll look into that. I wonder if Victor Savoy owns Españatech shares?”

“Or another competitor. Athos, Louis’s mental condition is worsening. Even without this claim by Rochefort, his behaviour is more erratic than it’s been in over a year. His medication was working so well, but now he’s like he was before he went on it.”

“Does Madame have the details of what he’s taking and where he gets it from?”

“Treville had it, but I’ll confirm.”

Athos rubbed his eyes. “Tired, love?”

“Yes. Missing you both so very much. I don’t care what the stakes are. I am never doing this again.”

“Today proved its worth. If we hadn’t been there, God knows what Louis would have done.”

“I’m still having trouble believing it. Is Rochefort still around?”

“No, he left hours ago, after Lemay. Only the stench of weasel remains.”

Athos snorted. “You should get to sleep. You still have a job.”

“Hah. You sleep too.”

“I’ll try.”

She blew a kiss. “Charles wants to say goodbye.”

Charles’s face filled the screen, then his lips. “Gah, what was that?” Athos exclaimed.

“Me trying to kiss you through Skype. Nothing like the real thing.”

“No.” Athos bit down the ache in his throat. “Later, love.”

“Yes. Sleep well.”

He used the bathroom and went to bed, his arm over his eyes. This mess kept getting worse and worse.

**********************

D’Artagnan’s radio squawked and woke him at midnight. Anne didn’t wait for him to acknowledge. “Charles, get up here! Monsieur’s room, quickly!”

He dragged on a pair of trousers and shoved the first pair of shoes he could find onto his feet. He grabbed a t-shirt and his gun and bolted up to the house. He found Anne and Constance struggling with Monsieur who was writhing and fighting, cursing a blue streak, and foaming at the mouth. “Grab him!” Anne yelled, so he threw himself into the melee and wrestled the man to the ground.

“Someone call [SAMU](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emergency_medical_services_in_France),” d’Artagnan said once he had Monsieur under control.

“I already did.” Madame, pale and frightened. She had a bruise starting on her cheek.

Anne put her cuffs on the struggling captive, then turned him over and listened to his heart. “His heart’s racing like mad. What did Lemay give him, Constance?”

“Just a sedative. You know it was, because he fell asleep.”

“We need to know what he’s taken....shit, he’s seizing!” She turned Monsieur on his side, undoing the cuffs, as the man jerked and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Get Madame out of here, Constance,” d’Artagnan snapped as he and Anne supported Monsieur.

Celie, one of the housekeepers, appeared on the landing. “SAMU is here.”

Constance kept Madame back while the medics dealt with Monsieur. D’Artagnan collected the bottles of medication from his bedroom to go with him to the hospital. As the SAMU team went down in the lift, Madame came forward. “I should go with him.”

“Madame, that might not be such a good idea,” d’Artagnan said. “I mean, given his state of mind. I can follow them up to the hospital and keep you advised. Milady can bring you there if the doctors think it’s a good idea.”

“I’ve never seen him like this,” she said, her voice trembling.

“It’s probably a reaction to the medication.” Anne put her hand on Madame’s arm. “Why don’t you go back to bed, darling? Constance, perhaps you could let Doctor Lemay know what’s happened. Charles? If you could go to the hospital?”

“Of course.”

D’Artagnan went to the garage to pick up a car to drive along behind the ambulance. LaBarge, one of GardesRoux's more thuggish officers, stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Monsieur has been taken to hospital. I’m going up as Madame’s representative.”

“No, you ain’t, Rochefort’s orders. Anything to do with Louis is our job.”

“I don’t take orders from you, mate.”

LaBarge loomed. “You wanna make something of it, kid?”

D’Artagnan contemplated fighting his way through the man-mountain, but doubted it would achieve anything useful. “Since when does Rochefort overrule Madame?”

“Take it up with him. Piss off.” LaBarge drew his gun. “Now.”

D’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re going to shoot me over this? Grow the fuck up.” He walked away casually, not at all worried that the guy would try it. Maybe he would one day, but not now.

Constance came out of Madame’s room as d’Artagnan made his way along the hallway. “What are you doing back here?”

“Apparently Rochefort gave orders that none of us are to have anything to do with Monsieur. One of his men stopped me leaving at gunpoint.”

She covered her mouth in shock. “They can’t do that, can they?”

“Not legally, no. But a gunfight in the garage didn’t sound like the best way to resolve things. Madame?”

“Still awake. Do you want to see her?”

D’Artagnan hesitated, but then nodded. “Yeah, better let her know.”

They went to Madame’s room. Madame sat up. “Charles? Why are you still here?”

He explained, and her expression grew grim. “I want those men off my property right now. Constance? Could you please call Jean and apologise for it being so late, but ask him if he and his men would return to the residence as soon as convenient? I do not want Guy Rochefort or anyone working for him to be allowed back onto the grounds. Anne, Charles, come with me.”

“You don’t want to wait until Treville arrives, Madame?” d’Artagnan asked.

“No. I'll call the police if they argue with me. You’re both armed? Then let’s go.” She pulled on a dressing gown and slippers, then swept out of the room.

They went to the reception and informed the night staff, then went to the garage to confront LaBarge. “I don’t work for you,” he said to Madame’s request.

Anne and d’Artagnan drew their weapons. “I don’t care who you work for,” Madame said. “Get off my property. You will hand in all keys and passes to the front desk. Who’s the night supervisor?”

“I am.”

“Good, then you can tell all your subordinates to get out now.”

LaBarge smiled nastily. “All right. It’d be a shame if something happens to your lovely house without a guard on it.”

Madame turned to Anne. “Would you be so kind as to call the police, Anne? Tell them that Monsieur....”

“LaBarge,” d’Artagnan supplied.

“Has just threatened my safety.”

“Of course, Madame.” Anne made the call. LaBarge slunk away. D’Artagnan doubted they’d seen the last of him.

The police turned up five minutes later, and supervised the departure of LaBarge and nine other GardesRoux personnel. Treville and the others were at the residence in fifteen minutes, d’Artagnan going to the main gate to make sure they could get in. “I have six officers coming behind me to secure the grounds,” Treville said as he left the vehicle. “D’Artagnan, with me to the house. Athos, take charge and make sure none of those bastards are left on the grounds, then come back to the house. Porthos, secure the main gate until the other officers turn up. We’ll have to work out shifts in the morning, but we all need to get some sleep. I suggest we takes rooms in the house for now, if Madame is happy with that.”

D’Artagnan waited until Athos climbed out of the car, before dragging his lover into his arms and burying his face in Athos’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

“As I did, Charles.” Athos gave him a couple of seconds, then released him. “Later, love.”

“Of course.” D’Artagnan grinned, and Athos smiled back with obvious relief. “See you.”

**********************

Athos and Aramis found no unwanted individuals lurking, and Treville’s security officers were already familiar with the residence. They found it highly ironic they’d been rehired less than a day after being booted, and were happy to see the back of GardesRoux. Whether this situation would last, no one knew, but Madame would never have them back. Whether Madame would remain in the residence was up in the air at the moment.

They returned to the house and went to Madame’s bedroom which had become something of a field office, with Treville sitting at Madame’s little table to talk to her. Anne saw Athos and came straight over to him. “Thank God,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Anne? What the hell?”

Athos looked over her shoulder. Constance stood there, hands on hips, glaring at him. “No one’s told her?”

“Oops,” Anne said, then turned to her friend. “Constance, it was all fake.”

“What!”

Treville looked up. “I’ll explain later, Constance. Athos, we have a problem.”

Anne let him go. “Unfortunately. Someone’s leaked Monsieur’s hospitalisation to the press.”

“By someone,” d’Artagnan said, “we mean Rochefort. He’s already given a statement live.”

“Already? How?”

“You may well ask,” d’Artagnan said, scowling.

“No comment from the house, they’re saying. They haven’t even _called_ here,” Constance said, still giving Athos a hard look.

Madame looked exhausted. “I’ve put out our own statement, and said Rochefort does not speak for the family. Doctor Lemay is still trying to find out what’s going on. I have no idea how Louis is. I should really go up to the hospital instead of letting that buffoon hold court.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Treville said. “Athos, you and Milady should take Madame up there. We’ll keep things secure here.”

“I’m going with you,” Constance said. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Madame patted her arm. “We’ll explain, dear. It was all necessary.”

“Hmmm.”

Madame dressed quickly and the four of them left Aramis and d’Artagnan to hold the fort with Treville. Anne acted as their chauffeur. It was three am and Athos was flagging. They all were, though Madame and Anne had some kind of superpower which rarely allowed anyone to see them look less than cool and perfect. How he’d missed Anne, and Charles. At least the need to keep apart was over.

“I’m going to murder Jean,” Constance said after Athos told her what his reasons had been for staging the breakup.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been thoroughly worthwhile. One of the worst days of my life.”

Anne glanced at him in the rear view mirror. “For all three of us.”

At the hospital, Madame demanded to see her husband, but was taken to a waiting room instead. A doctor came in, with a uniformed cop. “What’s going on?” Madame said.

“Madame de Bourbon, I’m sorry, but it appears...someone has interfered with your husband’s medication. His physician, Doctor Lemay, has been taken into custody—”

“What?” Constance said. “He’s treated the family for _years_.”

Madame patted her arm to signal her to pipe down. “This is ridiculous. I have and would trust Lemay with my life and that of my child.”

“I’m sure. But the sedatives were replaced with pills containing MDMA and PCP—ecstasy and angel dust. That’s what caused his sudden psychosis.”

Athos stared at the man. Perhaps it was the time of the night, or his tiredness, but he questioned whether he’d suddenly gone mad. Had he really heard all that?

“There has to be another explanation,” Madame said.

The cop came forward. “Actually, we are hoping to speak to your assistant, Madame Bonacieux.”

Constance went white. “That’s me. But what have I done?”

“I’d like you to come with me, madame, for questioning.”

“No.” Anne stood in front of Constance. “What’s she supposed to have done?”

“We have information that Madame Bonacieux may have colluded with the person who laced the medication.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Athos snapped.

“It’s all right. I'm sure it’s a misunderstanding,” Constance said, still pale. “I’ll talk to them and sort it out.”

“I insist on going with you,” Madame said.

“I’m afraid not,” the cop said. “Everyone in your household is a suspect. You’ll all have to be interviewed. Madame Bonacieux, if you please?”

“Wait—I wasn’t at the house today. Can’t I go with her?” Athos asked.

“Why weren’t you there?”

“Because Louis de Bourbon sacked me this morning.”

The cop shook his head. “That’s a motive, monsieur. I’ll send my colleague in to speak to you. Madame?”

They watched Constance leave, Madame’s gaze despairing. “This is ridiculous. Why would Constance want to hurt Louis? Why would Lemay?”

“They wouldn’t,” Anne said. “This is Rochefort. He was around when Lemay attended Monsieur.”

“But they said they had information about Constance—is that from him?”

“It has to be. I need to talk to my lawyer.”

“And we need to tell the police that Rochefort is as much of a suspect as Constance is, if not more,” Anne said.

They spent another two hours at the hospital, by which time dawn was breaking. Constance was taken into custody, to everyone’s distress, but Madame was sure that once her lawyer got involved, she would be released, as would Doctor Lemay. The police arranged to interview the household and Madame later that day once everyone had had some sleep. Monsieur’s condition was stable, but he would need to be kept in hospital for several days. Madame issued orders that no one was to visit him without her authorisation.

Madame had readily agreed to Treville’s people staying in the house—had insisted on it, in fact—and though Anne and D’Artagnan still had their own cabins, Athos felt it was his duty to stay near Madame at this dangerous time. He said goodnight to his lovers, and went to the guest room set aside for him, though he had little hope he would sleep with so many things to think about and worry over.

A knock on the door had him jerking upright. “Hello?”

The door opened, and Anne and d’Artagnan stood there, smiling at him. “We decided that we won’t sleep apart, so we’re going to sleep together.”

Athos laughed and held out his hands. He pulled them down to the bed, and let them kiss him. “What a splendid idea.”


	4. Chapter 4

Anne was gone when he woke, but that didn’t surprise him since Madame’s needs would always come first. Athos allowed himself time to snuggle with d’Artagnan a little longer before he got out of bed. “Come on, things to do.”

“Always things to do. Your stuff is still in your cabin, what’s left of it.”

“I brought an overnight bag. Why don’t you go and change into something more professional,” Athos said, looking at d’Artagnan’s t-shirt, "and I’ll see what’s going on.”

“You mean, what disaster has Rochefort created this morning?”

“That too.” He kissed d’Artagnan and put his arm around him. “You okay?”

“You’re back, that’s all we wanted.”

“I’m sorry—”

D’Artagnan put his finger on his lips. “No more. We're not children. I know it was all pretence. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“I'm still sorry, though mostly for myself.”

“That’s allowed. See you in a bit.”

That was the only pleasant time Athos had all day. Anne met in the hallway outside Madame’s room. He knew what her expression meant. “Rochefort.”

“Yes. He’s made a statement saying that Louis’s condition though serious, should not be taken as a sign of instability in the company. Which of course was immediately taken as a sign of instability by the shareholders, and the price has plummeted.”

Athos made a face. “That has to be deliberate.”

“Yes. Come in, Madame wants to see you.”

Madame, fully dressed and groomed, actually looked tired, which meant she had to be close to utterly exhausted. “Athos, thank you. Come and sit.” He obeyed. “We have to get to the bottom of what Rochefort is up to. Where are you at with your investigations?”

“Not very far, I’m afraid. I haven’t checked my emails this morning though.”

“I have had a message from my brother, Philippe. He heard on the news what’s going on, and it reminded him of a case he was aware of while they were based in Spain, involving another tech company, Novasciente. He said that its executive director died, and its major shareholder suddenly took ill under mysterious circumstances. Españatech mounted a hostile takeover and absorbed the company.”

“Was Rochefort behind that?”

“He didn’t know, but he says that someone told him that Mateo Vargas, who worked with him briefly, was involved in that takeover. And that Vargas now works for Españatech.”

“That’s a hell of a coincidence. I’ll put Aramis on that, send him to Spain to investigate if necessary.”

“Yes, please. I wish I knew what was happening with Constance.”

“I’ll try and visit her after we’ve been questioned this afternoon.”

Madame nodded. “Are we secure here, Athos? Things were so chaotic last night.”

“You and the baby are safe here,” he said, looking at Anne. “Two of us will be with you at all times, right here. I suggest we move everyone into the house for the interim. Even if the grounds are breached, they won’t get past us.”

“Agreed,” Anne said. “Athos, you should eat, and Charles too, if he hasn’t. Treville will be here shortly.”

“I can wait until he’s right here,” he said. “I’ll wait outside.”

“No need,” Madame said, smiling.

“Constance’s son?”

Anne frowned. “Gone to his father’s.”

“Best place for him if Constance is in custody.”

“Which she will not be much longer,” Madame said, her lips thinning. “A lawyer from my firm asked to see her and Doctor Lemay, but will have to wait for twelve hours after the arrest, which expires in a couple of hours.” It was already eleven, Athos noted in shock. “The judge and police will be here at two to interview us all.”

“There’s one question I need to ask, Madame, and I apologise for the inevitable offence in advance—Anton can’t be Aramis’s son, can he?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No. I slept with him once, and that was months before Anton was conceived. A paternity test will find Louis is the father, and I want one done as soon as possible to put this lie to bed.”

Athos bowed. “I thought as much. Again, my apologies. That accusation seems to have come from Marguerite, at least, as Rochefort put it, is that correct?”

“He said she provided dates. I thought it was he who made the conclusion. Anne? Was that your impression?”

“Yes, Madame, it was. But I don’t know why she told Rochefort about the liaison. That’s not in Treville’s files.”

Athos perked up. “No, it’s not. Someone needs to speak to her, find out if she has a personal grudge.”

“Wait,” Madame said. “We must be careful not to be seen as suborning witnesses.”

Athos sighed in frustration. “True. Then we’ll concentrate on the Spanish angle for now.”

**********************

The interview with Judge Bellavoix and the police officers was an exercise in humiliation, but after the meeting the previous day with Monsieur and Rochefort, Athos found it almost painless by comparison.

“Please tell me, Monsieur de la Fère, why you were sacked.”

“Rochefort had informed Monsieur de Bourbon of a brief—of one night’s standing—liaison between his wife and Aramis d’Herblay over a year ago, and I, along with Jean Treville, was faulted for concealing this. Rochefort also revealed to Monsieur de Bourbon that I personally had committed a serious assault on one of our personnel, and that Jean Treville had kept this from him.”

“A serious assault, monsieur?”

Athos took in a deep breath. “Yes. On Charles d’Artagnan shortly after his hiring. Treville decided to deal with the matter internally, placing me on probation and docking my pay for the entire six months.”

Judge Bellavoix frowned. “You were indeed fortunate you were not prosecuted, monsieur.”

“Indeed, _monsieur le juge_. I am also fortunate that Monsieur d’Artagnan and I are now lovers.”

The man’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. “Extraordinary.”

“I should also mention that Monsieur Rochefort accused me of orchestrating a hijacking of the de Bourbons’ private jet at New Year, on which Madame de Bourbon, Constance Bonacieux, my ex-wife Anne de la Chapelle, and Monsieur d’Artagnan were travelling. I believe Monsieur de Bourbon filed a report about this with the police after the event.”

Bellavoix turned to one of the officers and spoke to him in a low voice. “We will look into that, monsieur. Please continue.”

“He claimed to have proof that money from the hijacker’s account, into which Monsieur de Bourbon paid a very large sum in order to secure the release of his wife and the others on the plane, had been transferred into an account under my father’s name. I had nothing to do with the hijacking, not least because my wife and Monsieur d’Artagnan had thoroughly and intimately reconciled before this, but also because of my friendship with Constance and admiration and affection for Madame de Bourbon. I also refuse to believe that my father, who is of the finest reputation and character, knew the least thing about any such account.”

“Did he show you his proof?”

“No, _monsieur le juge_ , though he claimed to have shown Monsieur de Bourbon, who believed his claim.”

“Hmmm. You realise all this does not show you as being, as you claim your father to be, of the finest reputation and character.”

Athos bowed his head. “I freely admit I'm not the man he is. But I'm no hijacker.”

“And as you were not in the house or anywhere near it when Doctor Lemay provided the adulterated medication, you could not have been privy to this—unless you arranged for Constance Bonacieux to do so.”

“No. I did not arrange such a thing, and I do not believe Constance did so either.”

“Have you ever observed Madame Bonacieux to be intimate in any way with Doctor Lemay?”

“Not in the least. She’s open in her affections, and as she was been separated from her now ex-husband for several years, there was no reason for her not to be. She has been romantically attached to Monsieur Treville for some time, in fact, and has made no attempt to conceal this, beyond the need to avoid being teased.”

Bellavoix permitted himself a small smile. “I understand. We will have to investigate this matter of the hijacking and these accounts, you understand? If you have lied about this, you will be charged with a very serious offence.”

“I’m not even slightly worried, _monsieur le juge_. I’ve concealed nothing from you.”

“Thank you for your time, monsieur.”

“May I ask if I can visit Madame Bonacieux now you have interviewed me?”

“Once all the interviews have been completed, I have no objection to that.”

Athos exhaled in relief when he left the dining room. He welcomed any judicial investigation into Rochefort’s claims. The judge and police had powers that he did not, and they could demand evidence Rochefort would deny to him.

An hour later, Anne found him. “Constance is to be released. We don’t know about Lemay at this point.”

“Better than nothing. Is Brujon picking her up?”

“He’s on his way. Marguerite seems to be the source of the allegations against Constance with respect to Lemay. I don’t think they have much of a case against her.”

“No. I made it clear, and I’m sure the rest of you did, that Constance is besotted with Jean, not Lemay. Even if she was, the idea of her poisoning someone is ridiculous.”

“I know.” She touched his cheek. “Was it rough?”

He leaned into her hand. “Admitting my sins to the judge? Not really. He’s going to look into this rot about the hijackers’ accounts too. The truth will come out.”

“Aramis has found the Novasciente information, and has contacted this Vargas by phone. The man refused to talk but agreed to meet in person. He and Porthos are flying down this evening to meet him.”

“That leaves us very light on security here.”

“Jean has hired back more of the people Rochefort made him dismiss. It will have to do. We’ll be in the house, after all.”

“Any word on Monsieur?”

“Not yet. Rochefort’s not done, you realise.”

Athos sighed. “No, I know.”

“And Madame wants to visit Monsieur this evening. Jean has ordered all the GardesRoux personnel away from Monsieur, and has replaced them with his people. Ideally it would be one of us, but in the circumstances....”

“Yeah. You and Charles should go.”

“That’s fine.” She stroked his face again, and he kissed her hand. “They asked me about you, and about Charles. I told them the truth.”

“So did I. Fortunately the judge wasn’t terribly shocked.” She laughed. “Go back to Madame. I hope Jean is ready to comfort Constance. She’ll be an absolute wreck.”

“Poor darling. I could strange Marguerite.”

“I suspect Marguerite is already in a hell of Rochefort’s making, so don’t be too hard on her. But I want to know what’s going on there, for her sake.”

“So do I.”

**********************

Madame waited for Constance to return to the residence before she left for the hospital. Constance was shaking with exhaustion, and d’Artagnan, who’d come down to the reception to meet her, had to help her up the stairs. But first he gave her a hug and let her cry on his shoulder. “I was so scared,” she said. “I’ve never been arrested or in jail. Never broken the law. Why me?”

“Because Rochefort is a piece of rotting dog shit,” he said, stroking her hair. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Treville came out of Madame’s room to find them, and d’Artagnan handed her over. “Pamper her, boss.”

“I intend to.”

“I need to see Madame,” she said, trying to escape.

“Yes, but later, darling,” Treville said. “She’ll talk to you when she comes back from seeing Monsieur.”

“Just a minute with her?”

Treville relented, and Constance staggered down the hallway and went into Madame’s room. D’Artagnan wandered down and stood outside the door. He heard women crying and realised it had been wrong to try to keep them apart. Anne appeared five minutes later with Constance on her arm.

“Now you can look after her,” Anne said to Treville, standing behind d’Artagnan.

Treville swept Constance into his arms and more or less carried her to his room. “Poor love,” Anne said. “Madame is ready now. Brujon is bringing the car back around.”

“I’ll let Athos know.”

He knocked on Athos’s door. “We’re heading out now.”

“Be careful, Charles. Rochefort will be hanging around, and we have no guarantee his people have left as they said they have.”

“Understood. You keep _le petit monsieur_ safe.”

Athos smiled. “Anton Louis will be fine. Shoo.”

D’Artagnan rode shotgun while Anne sat in the back of the car with Madame. Brujon pulled up at a side entrance, well away from where Monsieur was being kept, to foil the press hounds hanging around the usual entrance for that ward. Inside, Anne swept Madame along at a clip where, d’Artagnan was pleased to note, two of Treville’s men were on guard. They showed identification, and went inside. D’Artagnan and Anne stayed near the door, while Madame approached Monsieur’s bed. He was pale and dishevelled, but his eyes weren’t as wild as they had been the night before, and he let Madame hug him without the slightest hint of violence.

The two talked quietly. D’Artagnan did his best not to listen, and was as unobtrusive as he knew how, which was plenty, after over a year on this job. Anne was like a coiled spring, but she always was, except in bed when she let herself go. D’Artagnan allowed himself a few seconds to imagine being in bed with her and Athos that night, if things were peaceful. Which he sincerely hoped they would be.

A knock on the door. D’Artagnan turned and saw a nurse. He opened the door. “Yes?”

“Monsieur’s medication.” The man edged through the door holding a cardboard kidney bowl with a syringe and ampoule inside it. D’Artagnan was about to make way for him when he realised the nurse looked familiar. He looked at the photo pass.

“Hang on, that’s not your badge,” he said, making a grab at the man by his shirt, but the guy dodged and bolted before he could get a grip.

“Guard King and Queen!” d’Artagnan yelled at Anne and the guards as he ran after the ‘nurse’ down the corridor. The shouts and curses of people being pushed and knocked over helped him track his quarry, and the man came to grief dashing around a corner and smashing into a drugs cart. D’Artagnan jumped on his back and cuffed him. He looked around for a real hospital employee. “Please call security, this man attacked a patient.”

Forty-five minutes later, the fake nurse was in police custody, and d’Artagnan was able to conclusively identify him as a GardesRoux officer formerly stationed at the de Bourbon residence. Monsieur was moved to a new private room, and a police guard was stationed. Treville’s men remained outside as well, but only after d’Artagnan had torn a strip off them for failing to check the identification. The ‘medication’ was marked as simple saline, but taken away for testing. It was unlikely that saline was all that the ampoule contained.

“I want Guy Rochefort arrested,” Madame snapped at the police officers. “I’m sure he’s behind the previous poisoning. You must tell Judge Bellavoix.”

“He will be informed, madame. For now, return home and be assured your husband will be kept safe.”

“If he is not, I will be speaking to my good friend, the Minister for Justice. Do not let anyone in that room without proper identification. If only we hadn’t sent Aramis to Madrid,” she said to Anne. “We don’t have enough people to cover him as well as us.”

“I could remain overnight, Madame,” d’Artagnan said. “You have three bodyguards at the house and the other security. Aramis and Porthos will be back tomorrow.”

She considered his words. “Anne, what do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea. Charles, I could ask Athos to relieve you after midnight.”

“That’s fine. Madame?”

“Yes, please do that. Thank you, Charles.”

D’Artagnan dismissed the two guards Treville had provided, and called Treville to let him know what happened. “Please send replacements, preferably ones who know their job better than that.”

“Yes, I will. Sorry, d’Artagnan. That won’t happen again.”

“It better not. Madame is on her way back.”

“Understood. Good work.”

He took up position next to the cops, and settled in for a long, and hopefully uneventful evening.

**********************

Treville finished telling Athos about the aborted attack at the hospital. “Good God, there’s nothing he won’t stoop to,” Athos said.

“No, there isn’t. I need to call in replacements.”

“Go on. I’ve got it covered,” Athos said, scanning the iPad for the security camera feed. They were in the nursery’s outer chamber, Anton and his nanny, Agathe, in the inner room, preparing for bed. So far, everything was quiet.

The door opened and Constance, now showered and changed, came in. “Darling, you should be in bed,” Treville said.

“I can’t sleep on my own. Please, may I stay, Jean?”

Athos led her to an armchair. “Make yourself comfortable. We were just about to arrange for something to eat.”

“Good idea.” She curled up in the armchair, looking small and fragile, and still sad, though not as much as she had been the last time Athos had seen, just briefly. Treville made his calls, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her, and she smiled when she saw him at it.

But before Athos could ring down to Serge, he heard an explosion, not in the house, but close to it. Treville and Constance jumped to their feet. The radio crackled. “Athos, a bomb just went off, over!”

“André, where? Don’t leave your post!”

“Shit! A car just went through the gate!” Athos heard gunshots outside and on the radio. “I couldn’t stop them. They’re headed for you, over!”

“Secure the gate, André, over and out.” Athos grabbed Constance’s arm. “Take Agathe and Anton to the safe room. Call the police, tell them we have intruders, likely armed. Quickly!”

She ran. Athos locked the bedroom door. Another gunshot rang, this time inside the house. On the feed, Athos saw two men, one tall, one short and blonde, in reception. Simone, their receptionist, was on the floor, not moving.

Treville and Athos drew their weapons, and grabbed radios and earpieces, before Athos went to the door. “Two,” he whispered. “Rochefort and LaBarge, I think.”

“Shit. Wait for them, do you think?”

“Until the baby is safe.” The safe room could be accessed from the nursery, and Madame’s bedroom. A second could be reached from Monsieur’s room. Once locked, neither could be breached from the outside without a lot of time and heavy explosives.

They heard doors slamming open—Rochefort looking for the occupants. Treville pressed the silent alarm which would call the police, and also alert the house’s staff, like Serge and the housekeepers, to get to safety. A light high on the wall went red, to tell them that the safe room was in use and locked. Athos pointed upwards, and Treville nodded.

Athos counted down on his fingers. _Three. Two. One._ He threw the door opened and tucked and rolled out. Bullets flew by his head, he fired and hit LaBarge, but his attempt to get Rochefort failed. The weasel fled downstairs. “Stay and protect them,” he yelled at Treville, “and warn Queen to stay away!”

He ran down the stairs. Simone lay in a pool of blood, a bullet wound in her shoulder, but she was still alive. “Jean, call SAMU. Simone’s been shot. Where’s Rochefort, over?”

“Heading to the helipad. Go, I’ll attend to Simone.”

Athos obeyed, silently apologised to his injured colleague for abandoning her, and tore through the back of the residence to the path. A bullet hit his shoulder, high on the biceps. He ducked for cover, cursing, and holding his arm. “The police are on their way, Rochefort!”

No reply. “Jean, where is he, over?”

“At the helipad now, trying to break into the helicopter, over.”

“Make sure all the electronic locks at the house are engaged, over and out.”

Blood was running down his arm, but he had to ignore it. He ran down the path to the helipad, trying to keep to the bushes at the side. Rochefort was struggling with the locked door of the helicopter. “Hold it, Rochefort! You can’t escape!”

Rochefort fired blindly at the sound of Athos’s voice, then at the helicopter door lock. He wrenched the door open and jumped in. Unfortunately for him, the keys to the helicopter were never left in the machine, so he leapt out again and headed towards the garden.

Athos yelled, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Rochefort kept going, so Athos fired, hitting the man in the shoulder.

Rochefort stumbled, but refused to give up. He turned and fired at Athos, and this time hit him in the chest. Athos fell to his knees, clutching at the wound, gasping for the air that was suddenly so hard to breathe in. Rochefort aimed at him again. Athos raised his gun and fired almost blindly, emptying his weapon, then fell back, staring at the night sky. He waited for Rochefort to deliver the _coup de grâce_ , but nothing happened. Athos pressed the button on his earpiece. “Jean, I’m hit.”

“Hold on, Athos, help’s coming.”

“Rochefor’?”

“He’s down. You got him.”

He let his hand fall. Breathing hurt, bubbling in his chest. He knew what that meant. He tried to reach his phone in his pocket but moving was too difficult.

_Anne. Charles. I love you._

**********************

D’Artagnan’s mobile rang. Treville. “Charles, I have to tell you something, but you have to stay calm.”

He stood bolt upright. “Boss?”

“Athos has been shot. He killed Rochefort, but Rochefort hit him twice.”

His stomach turned inside out. “Is he...alive?”

“Yes. He’s being brought in now to your hospital.”

D’Artagnan headed to the emergency department. “I’m going.”

“Wait, I haven’t got replacements—”

“Fuck that, I’m going. The police are watching Louis. Do what you have to do, sack me if you have to, but I’m going. Does Anne know?”

“Yes. She...damn it.” Treville was crying. _Oh God._

“She what, sir?”

“She’s dropped Madame at the house, and is on her way. House is swarming with police.”

“I’ll call you.”

D’Artagnan closed the call and rubbed at his eyes. If Treville was crying, Athos was close to death. D’Artagnan needed to be there before he died.

He ran.

The ambulance arrived just as he reached the ER. Athos was on oxygen, his chest covered in thick dressings, and one of the paramedics held a bag of blood and another IV drip over the gurney as it was wheeled along. D’Artagnan didn’t have a chance to speak to Athos before he was whisked away to surgery.

His phone rang. “Charles, where are you?”

“In the ER, Anne. He was just taken to surgery.”

“Go to the waiting room. I’ll find you.”

She came in minutes later and rushed into his arms, sobbing. D’Artagnan broke down too. “Jean said...he said...he’s dying.”

“He’s being operated on. He’s not dead.”

“If he dies...Charles, if he dies....”

He held her close, unable to stop weeping or let her go for a very long time. “His parents?” he gasped finally.

“I can’t...if I speak to them, they’ll hang up. Jean will call. Charles, he can’t die!”

“No, he can't.”

When he felt he could, he guided her to a chair. “What happened?” he asked, sitting beside her.

“Rochefort broke in to the residence, shot Simone. Jean, Athos, shot LaBarge, Athos gave chase. He killed Rochefort, but Rochefort shot him first.”

“Madame? Anton?”

“Both safe. Everyone’s safe, except Simone.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose, though the tears kept coming. “What about Monsieur?”

“The police are guarding his room.”

“We should...I can’t, Charles.”

She put her head down and he stroked it, glaring angrily at the waiting room without seeing it. “They won’t let us see him,” he realised. “We’re not next of kin.” He pulled out his phone and called Treville. “He’s in surgery. But we won’t be told if he lives, will we?”

“I have his power of attorney, so yes, you will. If you come back here and take over, I’ll go down there and wait. I need to be there for Simone too. Charles, it could take hours.”

“Or he could already be dead.”

“I can’t leave Madame and the baby on her own. Please, come back here, Charles.”

“What about Monsieur?”

“I’ve arranged replacement guards. Go check they’re in place, then come back with Anne. Okay?”

“Okay.”

D’Artagnan told Anne what Treville had said, and stood. “You can wait, if you like.”

She shook her head. “Let’s go.”

The new guards had just gone into position. Anne emphasised the importance of checking ID, and told the guards what they had faced that afternoon. Then she took d’Artagnan to the car park and retrieved the car. “I can’t drive,” she said, sitting at the wheel. “My hands are shaking.”

“Let me.”

They switched places, and d’Artagnan forced himself to concentrate on driving them back safely. He had abandoned his post, abandoned a sick man to people he didn’t know and whose skills he couldn’t vouch for. Yet he couldn’t make himself care enough to fight Treville’s new orders, or suggest since he was just going to be sitting around waiting, he may as well be guarding Monsieur. His only thoughts were for Athos and for Anne, and if he couldn't help him, he could help her in his stead, as Athos would want.

He parked in the garage and called Treville to tell him they were on their way up. “Come to Madame’s room,” Treville said, and hung up. When the two of them walked into Madame’s bedroom, Constance flew at them, crying and flinging her arms around them. Anne let Constance comfort her—or perhaps it was the other way around.

D’Artagnan freed himself, and nodded at Madame, sitting at her table. “My apologies for abandoning my post, Madame. You can have my resignation if you want it.”

Madame held out her hand to him, and drew him close. “Charles, in your place, I would do nothing different. Louis will be fine. We’re stretched too thin, we knew that. And the least I can do for Athos is to offer his lovers comfort while you wait.”

Tears pricked at his eyes again. “Sorry,” he muttered, wiping at them. “You’re okay?”

“Yes, Anne kept us away until Jean gave the all clear. Anton and Agathe are also safe. We’re all safe. We must pray for Athos and Simone.”

D’Artagnan looked over at Treville. “You’ll call the second you know?”

“Yes, whatever happens. I’ve called his father. They’ll wait for me to let them know when they can visit.”

D’Artagnan nodded. “Do you want us to wait up, stay with Madame?”

“Absolutely not,” Madame said. “All of us are exhausted. Jean, should you not just wait here and call the hospital?”

“Let me just check on Simone, Madame. I’ll return as soon as I can.” Which meant he’d stay all night if he had to, but wasn’t going to tell Madame. “I’d better go. Charles, I’m entrusting Madame, Constance, Agathe, and Anton to you and Anne. Please get some rest, and help them rest. The house is secure now.”

“Sir...will he live?”

Anne looked up and waited for his answer too. Treville bit his lip. “I believe he has a lot to live for. Beyond that, I don’t know, Charles. He was shot in the chest, and had lost a lot of blood.”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“You’re welcome.” He kissed Constance on the cheek. “Get some more sleep,” he murmured. Then he left.

“Anne, please sit before you fall down. Charles, Constance, you too.” Madame rose and went to a cupboard, drew out glasses and a bottle of Armagnac. “I imagine you’re all too tense and worried to sleep, so I’m ordering you to drink some of this, talk to me if you wish, go to bed when you’re ready.” She poured with a liberal hand, and handed a glass to each of them.

“Madame, has anyone contacted Aramis or Porthos?”

“Yes, Jean did. They’ve met with Vargas, not that it matters now. We can talk about that when they return in the morning.”

D’Artagnan sipped his brandy. The spirit burned and eased, though it was a false comfort. He could get drunk to falling down, or stay sober as a judge, and it would make no difference to Athos’s fate. He reached for Anne’s cold, trembling hand.

“Whatever happens,” he said. “Whatever happens to him, I’ll be there for you, Anne. I love you, and I‘ll care for you as he does, as he would always wish.”

She rested his hand on her cheek. “Thank you, Charles. I love you too.”

Constance burst out crying at her words. “I don’t know why I’m crying!" she sobbed. "It’s all over as far as my problem’s concerned, and my lover’s fine. I just feel so bloody sad about maybe losing Athos. He’s one of my best friends.”

Madame reached across the table to take her hand. “I feel just the same. He’s not an employee any more. I mean, not just an employee. But speaking of that, I’ve arranged with Treville that if Louis can’t be persuaded to take you all back, even Aramis, I will hire you all through the charity. I may lose my marriage, but Rochefort can’t make me lose the people who have given their all to save me and my son.” She wiped her eyes. “Oh God, now I’m crying too. This is ridiculous. It’s like the sprinklers have been turned on.”

D’Artagnan coughed out a laugh, and that made Anne smile. Constance giggled, then hid her face as if ashamed, though the giggles kept coming through her hands, which made Madame laugh too.

“That’s a nicer sound than weeping,” d’Artagnan said, before blowing his nose. He drank the rest of the rather excellent Armagnac, then put his glass down. “I’m going to bed, because if I’m needed, or...there’s bad news...I want to be rested. So good night, Madame, and thank you. Anne, please come with me?”

She let him lift her to her feet. “Will you be all right?” she asked Madame.

Madame smiled. “Are you planning to sleep at the foot of my bed if I say no?”

“Uh, if you need me to.”

“Darling, go to bed and let Charles comfort you. Constance, you too. I mean, go to bed, not....”

D’Artagnan grinned. “She’s welcome if she wants to join us.”

Constance poked him in the thigh. “Be quiet, you, or I’ll take you up on it. I’ll be all right. Now I’m out of that cell, I will be.”

“You know where we all are,” Anne said. “Charles isn’t actually joking.”

“I know. Goodnight.”

Anne touched her hair, then smiled at Madame. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“I, of all of you, should have no reason not to.”

D’Artagnan took Anne’s hand and led her to her bedroom. He closed the door and put his arms around her. “What do you need?”

“Make love to me.”

He slowly unbuttoned her blouse and put his hands over her breasts, kissing her. He unzipped her trousers, pushed them and her knickers down, and she stepped out of them. She undid her bra, and he cupped her breasts as she released it. He drew her over to the bed and lay on top of her, nuzzling at her throat. “Just take me,” she whispered. “Make me feel it.”

He touched her cunt, tracing the clit, seeking lower. She wasn’t ready, and he wouldn’t fuck her dry. He moved down and put his mouth on her, using his tongue to push at her clit, then inside her, while she pulled at his hair and begged him to just take her, please, just take her.

When he thought she was wet enough, he unzipped his trousers and took her like that, thrusting gently and deep into her, lifting her legs. She moaned but was curiously passive, and once he’d come, she put her arm over her face as if the whole business was painful to think about. Horrified, he quickly pulled his trousers up again, and lay down beside her, taking her into his arms. She was weeping, silently, painfully. “I’m sorry, love. Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I wanted it...Charles, I can’t bear losing him again.” She cried hot tears against his neck, shaking like she would come apart. This was not the calm, collected, strong Anne he’d come to know and love. This was a woman immersed in grief, preparing for a loss which would break them both.

All he could do was to hold her, love her, let her cry, and pray that Athos would pull through, because the alternative was simply unbearable.


	5. Chapter 5

Athos woke to the sound of people having a very loud argument outside his door. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken since coming out of surgery, but the other times were hazy in his memory because of the drugs and the muffled pain. Now his senses were sharper, though his body was just as weary and immovable. He wished he could shout at the people yelling to shut up, but he barely had the strength to move the oxygen mask, and on the whole, it was probably not worth it.

A minute or so later, his parents came into his room. “Athos, you’re awake!” his mother said, coming to hug him. He winced. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Athos, that dreadful woman insists she had authority to come in and see you. She won’t leave.”

He fumbled for the mask, and had to push her hand away as well. “Mum...let Anne in.”

“Son, she’s not your wife any more,” his father said. His mother pushed the mask back on his face. Athos sighed. He had neither the strength nor the breath to argue.

“Monsieur Treville tells us he has enduring power of attorney for you, and he can override our wishes! I’ve explained to him over and over, we’re next of kin, and that’s the most important thing.” His mother took his hand. “How are you, Athos?”

 _Pissed off. Sore. Tired. Missing Anne and Charles._ He couldn't say any of that, so he closed his eyes hoping they would take the hint. They didn’t.

He heard the door open again, and a woman said, “Monsieur de la Fère?”

“Yes?” his father said.

“Uh, I meant Athos de la Fère.” Athos cracked an eye open. The newcomer was some kind of administrator. “Monsieur Treville wants us to confirm with you that his power of attorney is still valid.”

“Yes. Let Anne...de la Chapelle...visit.”

“Athos, you can’t!”

“Mum...Dad...please. Go home.”

Both his parents straightened up in offence. “The drugs have clearly affected you.”

“No, Mum. Go.” Athos looked at the clerk. “Please?”

“Madame de la Fère, monsieur, please...it might be best to let your son see his visitor in peace.”

“You don’t understand who she is!”

The clerk gently but firmly guided his parents out the door, promising they could return later. Athos closed his eyes again. He needed to do something about this situation, but he wasn’t sure what was appropriate. Or effective, come to that.

“Athos?”

He opened his eyes, and smiled, before realising the mask made that irrelevant. He pushed it aside. “Anne. Come.”

She walked over to his bedside and kissed him on the lips. “I'm afraid I made a bit of a scene.”

“S’okay.”

She stroked his face. “Charles is hovering, and so is Jean. Do you want to see them?” He nodded. “I’ll go get them.”

He reached for her wrist. “Love you,” he whispered.

“Thank you, darling.” She put the mask back on his face. “Let us do the talking for now. You need this.”

She opened the door and signalled to the people waiting outside. D’Artagnan and Treville walked in, d’Artagnan retaining his dignity for no longer than it took for the door to shut, before he ran over to carefully wrap his arms around Athos’s neck. “You must not ever do this again, Athos. We can’t bear it. Right, guys?”

Treville snorted. “I’d certainly appreciate it.”

“As would I, but he knows that, Charles. Let him be, dear, or at least, let him breathe. Why don’t you sit and take his hand?”

“Why don’t we all sit?” Treville said, nodding to the chairs. D’Artagnan moved one closer to the bed and Athos reached out a hand. “Athos, I’m going to assume you know nothing about what happened after you were shot?”

Athos freed his hand briefly to give a thumb’s up. “Thought as much. Okay, you’re been here two days, and you’re still not dead.” D’Artagnan grinned. “Simone is fine, though she will take a couple of months recover fully from the shoulder injury. Rochefort is dead, however, so is LaBarge.”

Athos gave another thumb’s up. “Constance and Lemay are both out of custody, and there is no suggestion of charges against either of them. Monsieur is still here, recovering from the poisoning, and receiving treatment for his bipolar disorder. Unfortunately, it appears he’s been receiving sugar pills instead of actual medication since the August vacation. Rochefort must have switched them there or before then. Which explains a lot about his mood.”

“He’s also reinstated everyone, including Aramis, at least for the moment,” d’Artagnan said. “Although the Aramis situation is still tricky. Madame is taking charge of things at the corporation until he’s back on his feet. A new executive director will be recruited but this time, a more thorough check will be made.”

Treville nodded. “Yeah, turns out a couple of people on the board were behind him, with substantial shares in Españatech, while having shed those in de Bourbon Corp suspiciously recently. Rochefort had done the same. Aramis and Porthos confirmed that Rochefort was involved in the Novasciente takeover, and had asked Mateo Vargas to help him with this one. Vargas refused, saying it was going to be too obvious and too disadvantageous to Españatech. Rochefort went ahead on his own.”

“Why?” Athos asked behind the mask.

“This is where it gets even creepier,” d’Artagnan said. “His bedroom was full of pictures of Madame. The police think he was probably coming to kill her that night. You know, if he couldn’t have her, no one else would, kind of thing.”

“Fuck.”

“Quite,” Anne said. “So it’s all over, pretty much. Except for your parents and Treville having a couple of knockdown screaming matches over who gets to visit you. I don’t want to push it but I needed to see you _once_.”

“Me too," d’Artagnan said. "I don’t think they'd care too much, except Treville told them I was your lover and wow, that did not go over well. Did they not know you were bisexual?”

“No.” Which was an omission Athos would pay for, he was sure.

“Explains a lot,” Treville said. “They think you’ll be here a week or so, and then you can go home to convalesce. You have to decide where you want that to be—at your parents—”

“No.”

“Okay. My place, or your cabin. Or in the residence, if you want. Madame is extremely grateful to all of us. If Monsieur wants to change her decisions on this subject, he might end up losing her.”

“’Mis?”

“I think they’ve reached an understanding about Aramis, even if there’s a bit of resentment left, which you can understand. He’s not in a fit state to talk about it now, and a bit of time to absorb all the shocks will do everyone a world of good. Also, when you recover, you need to straighten out your legal situation with regard to Anne and Charles, so this situation never happens again. Agreed?”

“Yes.” Athos squeezed d’Artagnan’s hand again.

“Right, I’ll step outside and let you three have some private time. I’ll speak to your parents, find out what time of day they’re likely to visit, and then we can work around them. Okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“Then I’ll see you later. Get well soon, we need you.”

Anne rose and came over to the bedside. “How much pain are you in?”

“Not much. Drugs.”

“Good. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.” She looked at the notes in the folder at the end of his bed, and seemed satisfied.

Athos turned to d’Artagnan. “Looking after each other?” He pulled the mask away and repeated the question.

“Of course we are. You don’t need to ask.” He and Anne exchanged such tender looks, Athos melted with happiness. “Anything you need?”

“You two.”

D’Artagnan grinned. “Silly, you always have that. I meant like toiletries.”

“iPad? Got phone.” He coughed, and once he started, he kept coughing. d’Artagnan stepped back, and Anne took his place, soothing Athos and supporting him, before putting the mask back on him.

“That’s it. Now breathe normally, deep as you can. I know it hurts.” She kept up the encouraging words, helping him to spit and disposing of the mess without any fuss.

She eased him back into position. “Now you’re awake properly, they’ll get you onto exercises to help strengthen your breathing.”

He put his hand on her wrist. “Thank you.”

“I’d be a poor lover and nurse if I couldn’t help you with that, Athos. But, my darling, we should go, and let your parents back in.”

He pouted, and D’Artagnan laughed at his expression. “I think he’d prefer we stayed.”

“Tough. They love you, Athos, even if they don’t have a clue how you think. Deal with it. And don’t stress about them hating me. You know why, you won’t change their minds, so don’t waste your limited energy trying.” She kissed his forehead. “Only we need to know the truth, okay?”

“Okay. Love you both.”

“Of course you do,” she said, making him smile. “Charles, Jean’s waited long enough, I think.”

“Okay.” D’Artagnan kissed Athos on the lips, then put the oxygen mask back into place. “I’ll have someone bring your iPad up, if I can’t. Text me if you want something else.”

“Phone charger.”

“Will arrange that too. Bye, love.”

He waved at them, and smiled as they left. All in all, if one discounted the massive bloody chest injury, he was the luckiest man on the planet. Now he just had to smile and be nice to his parents—or feign sleep if he couldn’t.

**********************

Four days later, Athos was feeling very much better. He was off the drip, off the oxygen, had much more energy, and was encouraged to walk as much as possible. He wasn’t up to running a marathon, obviously, and the injuries still hurt, but the level of pain relief had been reduced, leaving him clearer headed. He could practically taste the scent of being discharged, and pressed the doctors every day about it. He hoped they’d give in out of pure annoyance.

He needed to leave because his parents were driving him crazy. Pestering him about Anne and d’Artagnan, about Treville’s authority, about how he’d been shot—which he didn’t want to talk about for professional reasons—his job, and last but not least, not telling them he was into guys too. His father, strangely, was more upset about that than his mother, who’d taken it in her stride and had only wondered why he had bothered getting married to Anne, since bisexuality was the same as being gay as far as she was concerned.

His father, though, was hurt that Athos thought him so hidebound that he couldn’t share something like that with them. “I was a young man in the Sixties, Athos. I supported gay marriage. Did you really believe I would reject you?”

“No, Dad. It just never came up. D’Artagnan is my first serious boyfriend.”

“Then why don’t you keep Anne out of your life and concentrate on him? He seems a decent enough young man. We only want you to be happy.”

“I know,” Athos said. “It’s complicated, and we’re still working it out.”

“What does he think? Having divorced her for infidelity, why would you even want to speak to her?”

“Because we work together, Dad.” And because the divorce was a massive mistake, he didn’t say. His parents might be fine with him being bi, but Athos did not want to try and explain polyamory to them because he was still finding his feet, while every day expecting the whole wonderful experience to collapse around him. “It wasn’t all her fault.”

“She cheated on you, son. You did nothing wrong.”

“Dad, please? I’m tired.”

That had worked, fortunately. Athos would probably have to keep dodging the topic. No way was he ever going to tell his parents the truth about Thomas. It would break them more thoroughly than his injury and death had done.

Getting out of the hospital would let him escape from all that, and if that made him a coward, then so be it.

He was resting after a tiring walk around the hospital corridors and an even more tiring talk with his parents as he walked, when the door to his room opened, and in came Louis de Bourbon. Athos sat up in shock. “Monsieur? I wasn’t expecting—”

“Calm down, Athos. Please make yourself comfortable. How are you feeling?”

“Very well. I should be discharged in a few days. I’m glad to see you looking well too.”

Monsieur winced. “I’m afraid my problems are mental, not physical. Do you mind if I sit?”

Athos indicated a chair and the man sat down. Whatever he said, Monsieur looked better than he had done for weeks, albeit a little pale. At least he wasn’t taking fake medication now. “What can I do for you?”

“Forgive me, for one thing. The way I spoke to you last week was...disgusting.”

“No, sir. You were rightfully upset about something we’d concealed from you. For the best motives, though.”

“You’re wrong, Athos. I’ve known you for years. I know _you_. You’ve never given me the slightest reason to think you'd want to hurt me, and I behaved very badly. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. We honestly didn’t want to hurt you, or Madame.”

“I should have remembered that. Rochefort....” His face creased in pain. “He had me so wound up.”

“And he had interfered with your medication. It was all deliberate, Monsieur. He was trying to drive you insane so he could get an injunction from you and make the corporation a takeover target. It was vile of him.”

“Yes it was. Thank you for killing him.”

Athos lifted his eyebrows, but then bowed his head. “It was my duty, and, incidentally, my pleasure,” he said, unable to prevent his lips twitching.

Monsieur grinned at that. “It needed doing. Anne tells me she’d rehired you all.”

“So I understand, Monsieur.”

“She’s rehired Aramis, Athos. I...don’t think I can live with that.”

“I’m sure she will listen to you if you explain it to her. But I must tell you, Rochefort’s accusations of repeated liaisons were utterly false. There was one night only, and long before your son was conceived. Anton Louis is yours and no one else’s.”

“I know. It’s not that which is bothering me. Well, not mostly. It’s the infidelity. If I was really a king, I guess there would be one rule for her and one for me, but I don’t believe in being unfaithful. Our lives, our commercial dealings, are so tied together, that trust is everything. That was what Rochefort kept picking on. Could I trust you, could I trust her, as if he was the only one I could depend on. I knew it wasn’t true, but he kept pushing it so much, I didn’t know what was up or down.”

“He’d done this before, Monsieur. Forget everything he told you.”

“But Anne really did cheat on me, Athos. I can’t forgive her, but I want to...I don’t know how you and Porthos do it. You more than him, really. How you can forgive...what your partner did, when it cost you so much? I understood your divorce, I believed the break up you staged. I don’t understand the rest of it.”

Athos did not want to ever have this conversation with his employer, but he’d brought it on himself. “First, you need to understand that Anne—my Anne—only slept once with my brother by consent. The other times were...non-consensual. And that’s why she threw him out of our house and into the traffic.”

Monsieur’s eyes grew huge. “I had no idea.”

“Nor did I, but that’s my fault because she told me and I misinterpreted what was, in retrospect, a very clear statement. So there’s that aspect. Second, I loved her even when I hated her. I still do. And that’s what Porthos taught me. When you love someone, you can forgive them for screwing up, if they don’t keep doing it.”

“But Aramis is around Anne so much...how can I trust him? Or her?”

“ _We_ didn’t trust him. He’s been off her detail since the...liaison. Porthos made it clear that he had the one chance, and that was it. The thing is, Monsieur—”

“Please, Athos. Call me Louis, in the circumstances.”

“All right, Louis. The thing is, Aramis is both a romantic fool and the kindest, most soft-hearted man I know. He acts like a clown to hide it, but it makes impossible for him to turn someone down who’s in need or in pain. Why do you think he became a nurse?” Monsieur nodded. “And as she tells it, Madame...was in some distress. I wasn’t there so I only have their word to go by but they’re consistent. You have to decide if you believe her or not. I believe them both.”

“I believe her, but how could she—”

“Louis, you came in here to apologise to me for things you did when you were very distressed. Maybe your wife wants to be able to apologise for something _she_ did when she was distressed, without it being held against her for the rest of her life. I know my Anne wanted that. I’ve been so much happier since I accepted her apology and moved on.” Athos coughed and held his chest. There had been too much talking today.

“When did you become so wise, Athos?”

Athos blinked. “Me? I’m not wise. I’m a damn fool. I’m surrounded by kind people, that’s all. Kind people who accept my mistakes, even horrible ones like beating up d’Artagnan. Someone who can do that to an innocent man, is in no position to judge anyone.”

“And now you love him.”

“And now I do. I love both of them, and I’m happy.”

Monsieur smiled sadly. “I’ll give your words some careful thought, Athos. And...I won’t do anything about Aramis for the moment.”

“Whatever you decide there, I’ll support you. He knows there’s every chance he’ll be removed. Treville will support you too. But please, believe Madame loves you to her very core.”

“I love her more than my own life. That’s why it hurts.”

“Yes, that’s how it works, unfortunately.”

Monsieur stood. “I’ll leave you in peace. Thank you. I look forward to seeing you at home.”

“I hope you’ll be out of here sooner than I am, Louis. Hospitals suck.”

“They definitely do.”


	6. Chapter 6

“He’s coming! Hurry up, everyone.”

“Charles, calm down, they’re all downstairs. Have you got it?”

“Of course I have, Anne. It's been sitting ready for two days.”

André at the gate called d’Artagnan on the radio. “Just approaching the gate now, over.”

“Thanks.” D’Artagnan rushed into position, and took hold of the end that Anne had given him. ‘There they are!”

Porthos brought the car around the drive, and parked right in front of the house. Aramis stepped out smartly and opened the passenger door. Everyone shouted on Anne’s cue. “Welcome home!”

Athos got out of the car, only needing a little help from Aramis, then stood stock still in clear shock, as well he might do. Outside the residence stood every employee from the house, including Serge and the recuperating Simone, the entire de Bourbon family, Constance, her son Pierre, d’Artagnan, Anne, Luc Brujon, and Treville. In case he hadn’t heard them shouting, there was a four-metre banner stretched out in front of the group reading, “Welcome Home, Athos!”

And there were balloons. Pierre had insisted on balloons.

“I may have to shoot someone,” Athos said, shaking his head.

Monsieur stepped out from behind the banner. “It was my idea, Athos.”

“Then I might have to shoot you, _Monsieur_.”

Monsieur laughed. “Possibly not the best policy for a bodyguard. Welcome back, and thank you, once again. Thank you, Porthos,” he said, as Porthos took a photo of the whole thing, then of Athos with Monsieur. “I’ve asked him to show me these photos should I ever forget that all of you aren’t just employees, but family.”

He held out his hand and said something quietly to Athos which made him smile. “Now, everyone. Be quick and let Athos go to his cabin. I hear he wants to spend some quality time with a couple of people very precious to him.”

“Oh no, sir. I already spoke to Aramis and Porthos on the drive back.”

D’Artagnan gave a smirking Athos the finger, then put it down quickly because Constance frowned at him. “Not in front of the C-H-I-L-D, Charles.”

He let everyone else welcome Athos back personally, while he and Anne rolled up the banner and handed it to Treville. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Cross out his name and reuse it for the next time someone gets shot?” d’Artagnan suggested.

“God forbid.”

“It’s Anne’s turn next,” d’Artagnan pointed out. “I mean, since people are only shooting Athos or his lovers this year, apparently.”

“You forgot Simone,” Anne said dryly. “But we can use the other side for something, surely.”

“I’ll shove it in my loft,” Treville said. “Give him five minutes then you can rescue him. Or rescue the others because I don’t think he was joking about shooting someone.”

“He wasn’t,” Anne said. “But he’ll get over it. We’ll see you at dinner, Jean.” Treville nodded and walked off.

“Athos is going to be cranky as fuck, isn’t he?” d’Artagnan said.

“Oh yes. He hates any kind of surprise that doesn’t involve sex, and he hates any kind of fuss being made of him including those involving sex. Which is why this was _perfect_.”

“You’re distilled evil, aren’t you?”

She smiled. “You’ve only just worked this out, darling?”

They gave it exactly five minutes, then dove in. “Athos, time to rest. There’s a dinner at the house in your honour tonight.”

“God help us,” Athos said, looking up to heaven.

“He doesn’t seem at all grateful,” Madame said, her eyes twinkling.

“Imagine that,” Constance said, failing to conceal her grin.

Anne tugged on Athos’s arm. “This way, darling.”

She and d’Artagnan helped Athos down to his cabin, Aramis behind them with his bag, and Porthos tagged along for the fun of it. “I don’t need a caravan,” Athos muttered.

“Too bad,” Anne said cheerfully. “This way, milord.”

He gave her a despairing look. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Nearly died,” d’Artagnan said. “It’s payback for scaring the shit out of us.”

“Yeah, don’t do that again,” Porthos said. “Cos my heart can’t take it.”

“He means it was a lot of extra work and hassle,” Aramis said cheerfully, dumping Athos’s bag in the living room, while Anne and d’Artagnan carried on walking Athos to his bedroom.

“I don’t need to lie down,” Athos snapped. “I’ve done nothing else for over a week.”

“I think you’ll find the bed is easier on you to get in and out of while you’re sitting,” Aramis said. “The sofa and armchairs are too low. By all means, if you want to hurt yourself to prove a point, go ahead.”

“You all suck,” Athos said, though he allowed Anne to prop him up on some pillows, while d’Artagnan took his shoes off.

“Yes, dear,” d’Artagnan said, winking at Anne. “Did they not give you your pain medication before you left?”

“This is me _on_ pain medication,” Athos growled. “Anne, what were you thinking? You know I hate this kind of thing.”

“I was thinking that it was about time you got over playing _Monsieur Grincheux_ , my love. Besides, people are _very_ grateful and glad to see you back. Killing Rochefort will probably win you a place in heaven no matter how many small children you cook into pies.”

“For God’s sake,” Athos muttered, turning red.

“Speaking of grateful,” Aramis said, shifting from leaning on the doorjamb to walk into the room. “Thank you, Athos.”

“For what?”

“Whatever you said to Monsieur. Not only has he reconciled with Madame, but he’s told me that he’ll give me another chance, and trusts me not to abuse that. _Trusts_ me, of all people.”

“You know what’ll happen if you fuck up again,” Porthos said from behind him. “So don’t. Madame needs company, she can buy a cat.”

Athos was still looking at Aramis. “He said that?”

“On my mother’s life,” Aramis said, his hand over his heart. “He then let slip that he’d spoken to you, and you’d convinced him to be merciful.” Aramis bowed. “So thank you. I won’t let you down again.”

“You better not,” Athos said, staring at Aramis.

“I won’t. Now, to practical matters. Anne and I will be your nursing support. Failing that, d’Artagnan and Constance have sufficient skills to deal with all but a haemorrhage. And Dr Lemay is ready to come out at a moment’s notice, as he is for the family.”

“I’d have thought the poor sod would want to see the back of anyone connected with the family, frankly.”

“No, no, he’s very grateful too. Funny how saving someone from being falsely imprisoned makes a good impression on them.”

“I had very little to do with that, in the end.”

“His gratitude is all encompassing. I’ll see you later.”

Aramis and Porthos left the cabin, so now it was just Anne, Athos and d’Artagnan in the sudden peace. “That’s better,” Athos said. “I’ve been looking forward to being alone with the two of you in a big bed, and look what you did instead.”

Anne lay down on the other side of the bed, and d’Artagnan sat on the floor next to Athos. “Sorry,” he said.

“You are not.”

“No, I'm not. But we did miss you.”

Athos heaved a sigh. “And I suppose you’re going to impose some kind of ridiculous sex ban on me just because I’m wounded.”

D’Artagnan grinned “Nope. We’ve been discussing all the ways we could work around it. Like, I can blow you, while you finger Anne. I could fist her while she goes down on you. I can fuck your face while she watches. What else?”

“Don’t forget you fucking me while he watches and touches,” Anne said, smiling slyly. “Oh look, little Athos likes that idea,” she added, palming Athos’s erection while licking his arm.”

“Uh...that sounds good?” Athos’s voice was a little strangled.

“Which bit?”

“All of it. Uh...fisting her?”

“Thought I’d give it a try. My hands are bigger than yours though.” D’Artagnan slid his hand under Athos’s shirt. “What do you think, Anne?”

She sat up and unbuttoned her blouse. “I think you should lock the door, Charles.”

So he did, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, then came back to the bedroom doorway to give Athos a striptease show as Anne was doing. Athos’s eyes were huge, darting from one to the other. “You like to watch, don’t you, love?”

“Yes.”

D’Artagnan stepped out of his trousers and hung them up behind the door. “Phone rings, I’m ignoring it. Aramis knows better than to use the radio. Let’s get you out of those clothes, Athos.”

He concentrated on Athos’s trousers, leaving his briefs on, while Anne undid his shirt. D’Artagnan paused as Athos’s chest was bared, stroked the luxuriant hairs behind the dressings. _Too close._ “You tell us if it hurts. It’s not about hurt.”

“Okay.” Athos held out his hands, and they took one each, only for him to draw them in for a kiss, Anne first, then d’Artagnan. “Love you.”

“We love you too,” Anne said. She took off her knickers. “Let’s wait for the blowjob, Charles. Let him see you play with me.”

“Of course, madame.”

She lay down beside Athos again and bent her knees. “Like the view, Athos?”

“Other way, love,” d’Artagnan said. “Your head by his feet, I’ll sit up here. Let him see your beautiful cunt.” He positioned himself against the bed head, then put the towel down between his spread thighs. Anne lay down on it, her legs hooked over his, proudly opening herself wide to their gaze.

“Better,” Athos whispered.

“Look at her, Athos. I’m going to open her up, put my hand in her. Maybe I’ll stroke you off using the same hand. Would you like that?”

“Please?” Athos went to shove his briefs down his legs, but d’Artagnan stopped him.

“No, you do nothing this time. Leave it all to us. And you leave your cock where it is until I say so.”

“Okay.” He put his hand on Anne’s ankle, and smiled down at her. This quiet submissiveness was so unlike Athos, d’Artagnan wondered if he was playing with them. But no, his eyes were hazy, his breath already speeding up. He was just greedy and needy, and pliant as hell. D’Artagnan could get dangerously used to it.

Anne touched herself, stroking her clit. “Fuck me with your hand, Charles. Make me feel it.”

He rubbed a finger up and down between her folds, going inside and feeling her becoming wet. “You’re so tight, love. Think you can take all my fingers?”

“Let’s see. I can take his, can’t I, Athos?”

“Yes,” Athos whispered.

“Been too long, though. So Charles, work me well.”

“I plan to.” D’Artagnan had left his own briefs on to tease Athos, and his cock strained against the cotton. He didn’t touch himself though. He could wait.

He worked two fingers inside her, slow and careful. She moaned a little, but he’d done this much before. He massaged her clit with his thumb, moving it back and forth until she was arching against the stimulation. He reached beside him in the top drawer of the bedside table, where they kept the lube. He squirted some into his hand, let it warm up, then rubbed it on and into her, bending a finger and pushing it knuckle first inside her. She lifted her head, straining to see. “More, Charles.”

He glanced at Athos. “See how tight she is? You’ve never seen anyone do this to her, have you? She’s so tight and beautiful, so slick. Dripping for my hand, aren’t you, darling?” He pulled out and made a wedge with his fingers. “I’m giving you more now, Anne. Tell me if it hurts.”

He eased his arrowed fingers in a little, playing with her clit with his other hand. “So tight and gorgeous, darling. I want to fuck you with my hand, then with my cock. Could you take us both, Anne? Both in this tight cunt of yours?” He kept murmuring a stream of filthy comments, to Athos’s obvious approval. His erection peeped over the top of his briefs now, and Athos was straining forward with the need to touch...something. “Easy, love,” he said to Athos. “Don’t hurt your chest.”

“‘M good.”

D’Artagnan had all fingers inside Anne now, up to the first joint. “Are you all right, darling Anne?”

“More, Charles. It’s good.”

“Greedy girl. Am I bigger than him? Can you feel my fingers filling you?”

“Christ yes. More!”

He’d only read about this, with Anne’s encouragement, when she’d suggested it as a treat for Athos. He had no idea if he could actually get all his fingers all the way in, and he was terrified of injuring her. “Relax for me, darling.”

She clenched, then let go. He still waited, playing with her more, letting her own juices ease the way along with the lube. He added a bit more lube anyway. He pushed his hand in a little more and waited until he felt she was ready.

Athos had leaned forward a little, his breathing harsh in d’Artagnan’s ear. “You like it, don’t you, love? Look at her taking my hand. She feels so good, Athos. Did she ever do this for anyone else? Did you, Anne?”

She lifted her head. “No. Just you. Just the two of you.” Her head fell back. “Damn it, Charles!”

“I’ve got you, darling. Little more.” She arched and groaned. “Hurts?”

“No! It’s good, God, it’s good.”

He waited, pulling his hand out again, slowly sliding in to where he’d been, perhaps a couple of millimetres more, slid out again. “Feel me fucking you with my hand, Anne. You’re so bloody gorgeous.” He moved in a little more and she shuddered and came, pulsating against his fingers. He let her ride it, waiting until she stopped writhing, wondering at how her body had responded to something so simple. God, he loved her.

His fingers were still inside her. “Enough, darling?”

“Yes. For now. Thank you.”

He gently pulled his fingers out. “That was the beautiful thing I’ve ever seen or felt. Thank you, Anne.”

She curled around so she was lying on her side, her head by their feet, looking at them both. “Stroke him, Charles. Use that hand.”

D’Artagnan pushed Athos’s briefs down, his erection springing eagerly free. “You going to give her a show, love? Let her see you come?” He twisted to kiss Athos, tasting him properly for the first time in too long. “Welcome home,” he whispered. He took Athos’s erection in his hand, dripping with lube and Anne’s juices, and stroked.

Athos groaned and put his head back, but winced as he stretched his chest muscles too hard. “Careful, Athos. Let me do the work.”

Wanking Athos was so easy, so sweet. He had such a lovely cock, such a soft and perfect foreskin. It was a shame he came so fast, but he’d gone without for a while now, and become worked up by watching d’Artagnan with Anne. d’Artagnan kissed him again while he was still coming, going deep with his tongue. When he felt Athos relax, d’Artagnan wiped his hand on the towel, then looked into those stormy green eyes. “Good?”

Athos put an arm around d’Artagnan’s neck. “Perfect.” D’Artagnan rested his forehead against Athos’s, just enjoying being close to him. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Are you sure?” D’Artagnan turned to look at Anne. “Is it okay?”

She smirked. “Up to him. If he bites it off, then you’ll know it hurt.”

Athos snorted with laughter. “Thanks, darling,” d’Artagnan said.

“I promise not to bite anything, Charles,” Athos said. “If you kneel over me, I think I can do this without moving.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t. I mean, Anne can—“

Athos’s hand tightened on the back of his neck. “No. Me. I want this.”

“Okay.” D’Artagnan pulled his briefs off, knelt up and swung his leg over Athos’s hips. His cock was then at the perfect height for Athos’s mouth. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

“Because you always want me to fuck your pretty mouth, Charles, and I can’t resist an offer like that.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I need to shut up in bed more.”

“Charles?” Anne said. “Shut up now.”

“Yes, darling.”

She turned around and moved up the bed so she could watch d’Artagnan’s cock and Athos’s mouth. D’Artagnan fed it to him slow, mindful that Athos’s lung was still healing. Athos teased the slit with his tongue, then moved his head forward to take him in deep. d’Artagnan pushed him back and slid in further. Athos seemed be okay, so d’Artagnan began to slowly thrust, not going too deep because he didn’t want Athos to gag. Athos’s tongue made his mouth a tight, wonderful place for his cock.

Anne knelt up beside him, grabbed his hair and kissed him, thrusting into his mouth with her tongue as d’Artagnan thrust into Athos’s with his cock. She tugged on a lock of his hair twined around her finger, giving him delicious little shocks along with the pleasurable sensations from lower down. He found it hard to keep his thrusts shallow and slow, but he had to for Athos’s sake, even with Anne doing her best to make him forget all that. He jerked when Athos cupped his balls, and then he came into Athos’s mouth, hip moving in a mindless rhythm he had no way of controlling. Even when he stopped coming, Athos kept his sweet mouth on him, swallowing and sucking until d’Artagnan had to pull away, now too sensitive.

He sat back on Athos’s thighs. “Wow.”

“So much for our imaginary sex ban,” Anne said, smiling at Athos.

“So much indeed,” Athos said, lips wet, eyes shining. “Thank you, my loves.”

“I think it was all our pleasure,” d’Artagnan said. “Also, I need a shower.”

“Me too,” Anne said. “Athos, you can wait until we get back for a sponge bath.”

Athos put his hand out to hold them both by a hip. “I would wait forever for you.”

“You’re so sappy and I love you for it,” she said. She kissed him. “Next time, you show Charles how you fuck me with your fingers.”

“Now that’s something to look forward to,” d’Artagnan said. “My own private porno show.”

Athos lifted an eyebrow. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, little boy.”

D’Artagnan smirked. “Bring it on—”

“Don’t you dare say it—”

“Daddy,” d’Artagnan got in, then jumped off the bed before Athos could grab him.

“Anne, spank him for me.”

“No, that can wait for the porno show. You can hold him down, and I’ll turn his little backside red.”

D’Artagnan put his hands on his hips. “Enough with the ‘little’, guys.”

“Sure thing, junior,” Athos said sweetly.

“Daddykins.”

“Baby Charlie.”

“Papa.”

“Puppy. Kitty-cat.”

Anne put her hands over her ears. “Please, stop. It’s like having sex with a pair of five-year-olds.”

D’Artagnan looked at Athos. “She wins. That’s _definitely_ a boner killer. No more juniors, and I’ll quit with the daddies, okay?”

Athos’s smug expression told d’Artagnan he’d been had. Somehow, he didn’t mind all that much. Athos was _there_ to tease and be teased, and that was all that mattered.

**********************

Later that night, with Anne curled around him, and d’Artagnan curled around her back, Athos whispered in the dark, “By the way, one of you has to marry me.”

“What?” D’Artagnan leant on one elbow.

“Athos, it’s late,” Anne groused sleepily. They’d had a big, joyous meal up at the house with a bit too much booze and entirely enough laughter, and they’d stumbled, tired, happy and a little bit drunk, back to Athos’s cabin and into bed just half an hour ago.

“I know. But I’ve looked into it, and I need one of you to marry me, and both of you to have my enduring power of attorney. Also, I have to make a will. I don’t want to have my parents keeping you away from me ever again, for any reason. So which one of you wants to marry me?”

“Not me,” Anne muttered. “Been there, done that.”

D’Artagnan lay back down. “Only if I can wear white.”

“Done. Anne can be bridesmaid.”

“Athos, go to sleep.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am. I love you, it’s wonderful, Charles will be the prettiest bride ever, but if you don’t shut up, I’m going to gag you with a pair of dirty socks and stick a chilli pepper up your bottom.”

No sound. Athos didn’t even seem to be breathing, he’d gone so quiet.

“I think it worked,” d’Artagnan whispered against her ear.

“Because I meant it.”

“I know.”

Everything remained silent.

“A chilli pepper, really?”

“Charles, go to _sleep_.”

He grinned. “As you wish, milady.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have one more story left in me for this series, but this is the big one so far. I need to watch S3 from beginning to end instead of just bits of it, so the next one, if it come will be a little while (the disks don't get here until Friday!)
> 
> Comments, corrections, criticisms and kudos are thankfully received, and I am so grateful to those of you who have commented, kudosed, or even just read this series up to now. You rock :)


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